The Break in the Ties
by Rochelle Templer
Summary: The ties between people can be very strong, if not eternal. But what happens when those ties are pushed to the point of breaking? A traumatic event tests the bonds in Sweets' life along with those of the people closest to him. *On hiatus*
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Yes, another new fic. I was originally thinking of putting this idea aside until I finished a couple of my open projects, but it just would not leave me alone. Rest assured though that I will continue to work on all open projects even as I add this to the roster.

This one is a bit of an experiment for me and thus it will be a little different at times from my normal fare. I hope it works out. It is set about three months or so after the end of season six, and is slightly AU because...well I can't say right now because it would be a spoiler, Sorry. ;) Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who reads/follows/reviews this. It is always appreciated. :)

The Break in the Ties—Chapter One

_We live our lives in moments._

_Each moment that goes by is added to the previous moments. People put them all together to create a history, a past. People also try to foresee and plan for the moments yet to come in order to create a future. _

_But all the living that people do only happens in each moment as it unfolds._

Doctor Lance Sweets had never forgotten the time when his father, his true father, had explained all of this to him. He had been fourteen at the time and getting ready to leave his home to go to college. His parents had made arrangements so that their son could live with them off campus while he attended classes, but Sweets had still felt anxious about all the changes that were coming to his life. It was then that his father told him this in an effort to get him to focus on the moment instead of worrying excessively about the future. It was a piece of wisdom that the therapist had carried with him to this day.

Sweets was indeed focused on the moment he was in…but now he was beginning to think that lives were not only lived in each new moment.

Each moment also was the beginning of the end.

* * *

><p>It had been time for the therapist's annual physical. Sweets hated going to the doctor and tried to avoid it whenever he could, but he understood that working for the Bureau meant making sure he was in good health. That meant a visit to the doctor at least once a year, whether he wanted it or not.<p>

So he had shown up three days previous to allow himself to be examined, tested and prodded for almost two hours, and today was the day that he was scheduled to go over the results with his doctor. Sweets had actually been looking forward to this appointment since it meant that he could soon stop thinking about all this for another year. He had been expecting a quick visit with the doctor telling him that he was fine and asking him to set up his appointment for the next year.

The day, however, had not gone the way Sweets had envisioned it.

The doctor came into the examination room with a serious expression on his face, and right away, the psychologist suspected something. At first his physician breezed through the results, but soon the conversation took a definite turn.

"_There were some…irregularities…."_

"_We will need to do some more tests…nothing too invasive at the moment…"_

"_It's probably nothing…we just need to be sure…."_

As a student of human behavior, Sweets knew that the doctor was downplaying his concerns in an effort to keep the therapist calm. He could tell by the slight modulations in the physician's voice and by the subtle eye movements as the doctor talked. Soon, Sweets became frustrated by the doctor's attempts to spare his feelings and had asked him to be straight with him and explain why he wanted those additional tests. The doctor hemmed and hawed for another minute before he finally gave in to the psychologist's request.

There were a lot of words spoken, but only one that Sweets could focus on.

_Cancer._

The word seemed to hang in the air as Sweets grew silent. The doctor then let loose another flurry of reassurances, and Sweets made sure to nod in the appropriate places to show that he was listening. After a couple more minutes of explanation, the physician left, instructing Sweets on the way out to make another appointment at the desk. Sweets had nodded and after the doctor closed the door behind him, the psychologist put his head in his hands.

He tried to regulate his breathing as a way to calm himself while his mind desperately searched for some kind of comforting thought to cling to.

'_It's just some tests…he's not even sure if there's anything to worry about.'_

'_It could be nothing…he's just being cautious.'_

'_Even if there is…something…we're probably catching it early. And that's important, right? Catching it early? That's what gives you a better chance.'_

'_A better chance of survival.'_

'_If there is a chance at all.'_

Sweets blinked hard as his eyes started to water up, and his hands began to shake. There had been many times when he had been the one to deliver bad news to others. Whether it was informing someone of a loved one's death or telling someone that someone else, someone they thought they knew, had committed some atrocious act. Almost every time, Sweets had felt at least some small measure of empathy as he observed each person's response as they worked through feelings of confusion, disbelief, grief, anger.

All of which he was experiencing himself right now.

The psychologist thought about how he had always strived to be comforting in moments like those, but he couldn't help but wonder right now if his condolences had been as meaningless as his own doctor's assurances had been to him.

Sweets swiped at his eyes and sniffed hard as he worked to compose himself. He couldn't stay in this room forever nor could he just go home and crawl into his bed and hide under his blankets, even though both options were immensely appealing to him. He had a job to think about, responsibilities to attend to, and people who wanted or needed to see him.

The psychologist stood up and exited the room, his expression a mask. He signed out at the front desk, signed the proper forms so his insurance would be billed, and then sat up his next appointment. He then began a slow, deliberate walk back to his car in the parking lot.

Sweets noted with each step that he was starting to feel like a zombie: numb inside and slow in the brain. But then he reasoned that that might not be such a bad thing after all. Not with the news he had just gotten.

Especially given how his week had gone thus far.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Next chapter. I hope to keep up this momentum for a while. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**NatesMama**: Thank you. This one is definitely going to go into some darker places (although not always overtly), but I hope to keep it interesting...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this update and will be looking forward to your next update on your Rabbit Hole fic. :)

**Super Ario: **I think that duckeaters tend to think alike. :) But yeah, I'm sure that variations of ideas have been repeated in many a fic on this site. Heck, I even was worried about ripping off another Bones' writer's fic when I wrote The Measure of the Spirit and actually PM'd to apologize in advance. :) So don't worry about it. I'm sure we will have totally different stories anyway...But yeah, things aren't going to be easy for Sweets any time soon...

**Seletua: **Thank you. Always nice to hear from you once in a while. :) I hope you enjoy the rest of this one.

**Gandalf3213: **Thank you for that. :) I agree that Sweets is one of the most endearing characters on TV these days and have a great fondness for exploring all of his interactions with the other characters on Bones...especially with B&B. As to what will happen next...well things just don't tend to be straightforward in my fic worlds. :D Anyway, I hope you enjoy the ride in the meantime.

**CauseAscene: **Thank you for the review. I haven't seen _50/50_ although I had heard about it. I'll admit that this one will get pretty heavy at times, but I can also say that it will definitely have some twists and turns at times too...Oh and just so you'll know, there will be more bombshells to come...

**D: **No. And as you will soon see, it can get worse...

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. This one will be a harrowing one at times...and as for what I alluded to in the previous chapter...you will get a glimpse of that here...

The Break in the Ties—Chapter 2

_Earlier that week_

"It's a simple evaluation, Doctor Sweets," Agent Warner, Sweets' supervisor said as he sat across the psychologist at his desk. "Given our normal Bureau policies in regards to agents fraternizing with consultants and the fact that Doctor Brennan is actually pregnant with Agent Booth's child, I believe it's understandable why there might be concerns about the two of them continuing to work together on federal homicide cases." The agent shuffled some papers about on his desk before handing Sweets a file of forms.

"Since you've worked with them in the past, I decided that you should handle this evaluation of their professional partnership," Warner continued. "This will need to be a thorough job in order to quell those concerns from higher up, and since they seem to trust you, I'm sure that you are the best therapist here for the task."

Warner went over a couple more things with Sweets before he dismissed the psychologist. As Sweets walked down the hall, he finally rolled his eyes and let loose the snort he had been holding back.

'_Seems to trust me?' _he thought wearily. '_Since when? Booth and Brennan have never trusted me in regards to their partnership. And I know that they are sure to hate this latest evaluation, and that they will be resistant every step of the way.'_

Sweets sighed as he approached his office door. Despite his past inquiries and his continued desire to help out however he could, a part of him understood why Booth and Brennan were so tight-lipped.

'_I know that I wouldn't want a bunch of details about my relationship with Daisy to be written into a file and scrutinized by members of the FBI,' _he pondered. '_But then again I don't work with Daisy in the field. Booth and Brennan have to know that their personal relationship will always have to be considered as long as they work for the Bureau, right? It's logical and not unreasonable for them to expect that the FBI is going to do whatever it takes to avoid the appearance of impropriety when building federal cases, isn't it? And the two of them are reasonable, rational people who will understand why I need to do this, right?'_

Sweets' shoulders slumped as he walked into his office. No matter how reasonable these thoughts might be, he knew that Booth and Brennan would not see things that way. Not at all.

The psychologist sat down at his desk, sat the file in his hands down, and stared at the stack of papers and files currently occupying his working space. Even though there hadn't been many cases that involved the Jeffersonian here lately, Sweets had still been nearly overloaded with work due to numerous agents consulting him for profiles as well as seeing him for therapy. The result had been stressful weeks filled with ten to twelve hour work days for over a month.

During that time, Sweets had not seen or heard much from anyone at the Jeffersonian or from Booth. Daisy, who had been busy herself recently with work on her dissertation, had made sure to keep in touch with him by texting him several times a day, but for the most part, Sweets had become isolated in a world of work.

Sweets started to reach over for some papers when a wave of nausea and mild pain hit him. He had been having these sensations here and there for the last two weeks, and it was starting to worry him. Still, he was reluctant to see a doctor about it. He carried too many bad memories from his early childhood about doctors and hospitals, and they did not get much better as he grew into adulthood. Eventually, Sweets was able to rationalize putting of a visit to his physician by reminding himself that his annual physical was coming up later that week.

'_It's probably just stress,' _Sweets told himself. '_I'll just wait and ask the doctor about it when I go in for that physical, and he'll probably end up telling me what I already know. No need to make a big deal out of it.'_

Sweets yawned and rubbed his abdomen while he waited for the nausea to go away. He decided to work on the more routine and mundane reports first as a way to clear his mind before tackling the more challenging tasks in front of him.

* * *

><p>He had only been at it for an hour when Booth and Brennan barged into his office, breaking Sweets' concentration.<p>

"Sweets, what's all this about an official evaluation?" Booth barked at him. The psychologist turned around in his chair to face them before speaking.

"Given the nature of your relationship with Doctor Brennan and the fact that she is pregnant," Sweets began. "The Bureau feels that it would be prudent to…."

"Why should my being pregnant mean anything?" Brennan asked. "It has no bearing on our partnership or our work."

"No bearing?"Sweets said, incredulous. "The baby you are carrying is Agent Booth's."

"And mine," the anthropologist added. "But again, that has no relevance in regards to our professional partnership. It's not as if we will be taking our baby out to crime scenes."

Sweets sighed and stood up from his chair to face them.

"Doctor Brennan, Agent Booth," he said. "Whether you choose to admit it or not, the two of you cannot deny that a change as monumental as the one you've experienced in your personal relationship has the potential to affect your working relationship as well. Now, the Bureau is willing to be flexible on its policies as long as you agree to…."

"This better not be some sneaky way for you to get us back into therapy with you," Booth scowled. Sweets bristled at the agent's tone.

"My supervisor thought that it would be best if I handled this evaluation simply because I have a history of working with you," the therapist said. "The decision to have this evaluation in the first place was completely out of my hands and came from much higher up."

Booth eyed him suspiciously for a few moments before reaching over and giving Sweets a hard pat to the shoulder.

"Ok, I get it, Sweets," he said, starting to smirk. "You just give us a time to show up, and you'll do some shrinky mojo, write some stuff down, and then Bones and me will be on our way."

"No, it isn't going to work like that, Agent Booth," Sweets protested. "It's my job to give your partnership a thorough and precise evaluation."

"Since psychology is a soft science, filled with inconsistencies and void of any accurate means of comparison, a precise evaluation is inherently impossible," Brennan replied.

"I can schedule you in for our first session later this week," Sweets said, choosing to ignore her. "Will that work for the both of you?" Both Booth and Brennan made a show of rolling their eyes and shaking their heads before Booth let out a gust of air.

"Fine," he said. "We'll be here." They then set up a more exact day and time which Sweets tapped into his Blackberry.

"Ok then," Sweets said as he double-checked the device in his hand. "I will see you soon. We'll start our first session with…."

But by that point, Booth and Brennan were already heading out the door and were closing it behind them. Sweets plopped down onto the chair he normally used for therapy sessions.

'_I'm just doing my job,' _he thought glumly. '_But even more than that, I just want to help them…to make sure that they get a fair evaluation so that they can keep working together. And…I just want them to be happy. Why do I get so much grief for this time and time again?'_

The psychologist sank back into his office chair and sulked. Even though he had tried to let it go, it still stung a little to this day that he had been the very last person to find out about either their relationship or Brennan's pregnancy.

'_Even Fisher knew before I did…Fisher….It was all right for him to know, but not me? Besides that, the only reason I found out was because of a misplaced comment of Daisy's and the fact that the Bureau was about to be notified about it anyway…Heck, for all I know, members of the Bureau found out before I did…."_

Sweets rubbed his temples. After he had found out about it, he had thought about asking Booth if he would like him to stand up for the agent's baby at his first baptism and become his child's godfather. Sweets figured that Booth's Catholicism would come into play at least that one time and that Brennan would agree to a ceremony for their baby. But now that idea seemed ridiculous to him.

'_Pretty stupid of me,'_ the psychologist chided himself. '_To think that they'd ever consider me for something like that. I'm sure that if they had their way, I wouldn't have found out about the baby until he or she graduated from high school.'_

The therapist took a deep breath and shook his head. He was spiraling into a dark place, and he knew it. He also knew that it would only get worse if he didn't stop himself.

'_I can't do this to myself…It's all just fear and insecurity….Booth and Brennan are my friends. They are not looking to shut me out of their lives. I'm letting my personal and professional stress cloud my sense of reality.'_

'_Right?'_

And that was the problem….that little seed of doubt. Doubt that, no matter how much he tried to reason it away, remained stubborn and steadfast.

Sweets stood up and left his office, letting his secretary, Becky, know that he was going to lunch on the way out.

'_I just need a break,' _he told himself. '_I'll get something to eat, spend some time with my friends, and I'll feel better.'_

* * *

><p>A couple days later, sitting alone in the Diner, Sweets picked at his soup and sandwich for a while before forcing himself to eat them.<p>

His mood had not improved much since being told about the upcoming evaluation that he had to do with Booth and Brennan. One thing that Sweets was sure was not helping was the fact that he was eating his lunch alone…something he had been doing all week.

"_Sorry Doctor Sweets, but I already made plans with Michelle….Maybe next time…"_

"_Oooo, sorry Sweets, but Hodgins and I are taking Michael to the park. Maybe some other time…."_

"_Sorry, gotta run Sweets…Bones and I are in the middle of something right now. How about a rain check?"_

The reasons would be different each time and the wording might change, but the end result was the same: they simply did not have time for him anymore.

'_We're all busy people,'_ he tried telling himself. '_It's not strange that sometimes we don't have time to see each other. There are days when Daisy and I only get to spend breakfast and a couple of hours at night together before we go to sleep. Doesn't mean that we don't enjoy being around each other anymore.'_

Sweets chewed on his sandwich as he watched the people walking around outside the restaurant. Despite his best efforts to remain positive, the psychologist knew what was bothering him about these failed attempts to spend time with his friends.

He was worried of being left behind again.

The therapist stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and swallowed it with one hard gulp. He thought back to the time when most everyone on the team had left DC for their own pursuits, leaving him alone. It had been one of the darkest times in Sweets' life as he struggled with the anger, sorrow, confusion and loneliness that had came about as a result. He had ended up running from his position and practice at the Bureau in a desperate attempt to find any sort of meaning to a life that had been turned upside down and gutted.

And he had been more grateful than he could ever express when they all came back.

Now, however, he was scared that it was happening again, albeit in a more subtle way.

'_They've got their own lives and families now,' _he mused. '_And I should be happy for them instead of worrying about me…Besides things change. Situations change. People move on and they leave things behind.'_

'_Not all friendships are built to last….'_

The psychologist rubbed his eyes and let out yet another yawn. For the past two months he had been grappling with insomnia, and was often only able to go to sleep due to sheer exhaustion, and even then for only a few hours at a time. He had thought about taking sleeping pills for it, but was too worried about dependency to actually go through with it.

Sweets turned his attention from the window to his bowl of soup and pulled out his Blackberry as a way to get his mind focused on something else. A reminder popped up about his appointment for his annual physical the next day, and Sweets groaned.

'_So much for brightening my day,' _he thought bitterly.

After looking through his appointment book, the therapist shoved the device back into his pocket and stood up. He then left a tip at the table, picked up his bill, and paid at the register before walking out.

'_It's just a routine physical,' _he told himself as he walked toward his car. '_It'll be over in a couple of hours and then I don't have to think about it for another year.'_

'_For now, I might as well focus on work instead.'_

_Present time_

Sweets parked his car in the Hoover Building's garage and decided to call the fact that he hadn't gotten into a major traffic accident on the way back here a minor victory. Instead of getting out after turning off the ignition, Sweets stayed where he sat.

He tried to list and sort out all of the tasks that he had left to do that day as a way to center his thoughts. There were some routine reports that needed to be turned in, a profile to finish for Agent Peterson for that bank robbery case and two…no three patients who had therapy sessions scheduled that afternoon.

Sweets hung his head and took deep breaths. Even if he used every ounce of his will to maintain control over his emotions, he was certain that there was no way that he could give his patients the care and attention they needed. Not now. Not until this…situation was resolved.

'_I need to cancel my sessions today and make arrangements to have my patients transferred to other therapists,' _he thought. '_Pretty much all of my current patients are in mandatory sessions, so it shouldn't be too much of an ordeal for them to be transferred.' _Sweets then began to run through the list of patients he had left to see that day with one name giving him pause: Special Agent Gerald Thompson.

Thompson had been sent had been sent to therapy sessions with him almost six weeks ago via a mandate from the Bureau. His partner had been killed during what was supposed to be a routine follow-up on one of a series of jewelry store heists that had spanned three states. Thompson had been able to arrest three of the men involved without a scratch while his partner had taken five bullets and had been killed instantly.

Even though he had refused to acknowledge it so far, it was clear to everyone around him that Thompson had taken the death of his partner, a man he had worked with for seven years, very hard, thus his need for therapy. It had been difficult at first, but over time, Sweets had started to gain Thompson's trust and the psychologist was confident that he was finally getting close to a breakthrough with him.

'_But it will all be for nothing if I just ship him off to another therapist,' _Sweets told himself. '_This has been eating at him for so long now…I'm not sure how much longer he can take this… and who knows how long it would take him to build a trusting relationship with another therapist.'_

Sweets sniffed hard and scrubbed his eyes. Despite his own inner turmoil, he did not want to abandon Thompson and was determined to keep his appointment with him at all costs.

'_I'll keep treating him…for however long I can….'_


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Next chapter. Things are going to be moving kind of fast for a bit, but I will be slowing down soon. I hope you can bear with me. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It's always appreciated.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. :) No I wasn't kidding, and yeah, given canon, it's easy to imagine B&B not being thrilled with that side of Sweets or his work. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well...although it also will not be an easy one for a different reason...

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. I agree about the numerous possibilities, and I think at least some of my readers will be a little surprised at the directions I am going to go with this. But I hope that it stays interesting. I also agree that Sweets needs to come to the realization that his place within the team is not transitory or solely dependent on his professional performance, but the question becomes, how does he reach that point? It's something I am going to ponder here...

**D: **And that's something I think we can say about Sweets pretty consistently within canon: he seems to have a lot of answers for the people around him and none for himself. And in this story, there will be little room for that approach...

The Break in the Ties—Chapter 3

Several minutes and a couple of breathing exercises later, Sweets entered the Hoover Building and went straight to Warner's office. Sweets explained that he would need to cancel most of his on-going therapy sessions due to personal illness in the vaguest terms possible. The psychologist was nervous that his supervisor was going to press the issue, judging from the expression on the agent's face.

"Will you be available for any of your regular office duties?" Warner asked him.

"For the present, yes," Sweets answered. "I can still work on profiles, do consultations, and participate in interviews and interrogations as needed. I…I just need to halt any on-going evaluations or treatments for now because I do not know if or when things could change…I can get you any needed paperwork from my doctor as soon as…."

"Don't worry about that, Doctor Sweets," Warner said, his expression puzzled but concerned. "Bring in the documents you need as soon as you can. For now, I will re-assign your patients and notify the agents of the changes, excepting Agent Thompson as per your request." Sweets shoulders slumped down in relief.

"Thank you, sir," the psychologist said, his mouth dry. "I'll let you know as soon as possible if the situation changes."

"Fine," Warner said, keeping a watchful eye on Sweets. The therapist started to leave.

"Doctor Sweets."

"Yes," Sweets said, turning back toward the agent.

"I hope you feel better soon," Warner said before attending to his paperwork.

"Thank you," Sweets said, the words thick on his tongue. The psychologist nearly stumbled as he walked out and headed back to his office. Once inside, he collapsed onto the couch and laid down.

It was then that he remembered that he was supposed to do an evaluation of Booth and Brennan and that their first session had been set for tomorrow…an evaluation that Sweets knew was currently being re-assigned by Warner.

Sweets closed his eyes and groaned. His first thought was to get back up and head over to Warner's office to tell him not to re-assign their evaluation either. Thoughts of the importance of those sessions, the expectations of Booth and Brennan, and the unique difficulties that they would probably give another therapist soon followed.

But every time that Sweets started to move, one thought stole all of his inertia.

'_Cancer.'_

'_My doctor is going to run tests to see if I have cancer.'_

'_I could have cancer.'_

The psychologist started to count his breaths. He knew that it was not good to dwell on something that could turn out to be nothing at all, but that knowledge was not enough to stop his insides from growing cold or his heart from pounding whenever he let himself think about it. He ended up making into the fifties in his counting before he was able to steady his nerves enough to be able to open his eyes and reason again. He had thought about cancelling his request to transfer his evaluation of Booth and Brennan to another therapist one last time when another thought occurred to him.

'_Do I really need to be the one to do this?'_

Sweets blinked and frowned. His mind went back to previous sessions with them after Booth had arrested Max Keenan for murder and then to the sessions he had with them as research for his book. He remembered sessions being cut short due to cases coming up or for almost any other reason that Booth or Brennan could devise. He thought about the stonewalling, the subtle mocking of him, his age or his profession, and the hours spent in silence.

'_It doesn't really matter if I am in the room or not as far as they are concerned,' _he told himself. '_Brennan doesn't believe in psychology and Booth doesn't believe that there is ever any cause for therapy as far as he or his partnership are concerned.'_

' _And…neither of them really believe in me anyway as a therapist.'_

Sweets swallowed hard. He knew that he was probably partially, if not mostly, to blame for the perceptions his co-workers had of him, so he figured that he really had no room to be bitter. Still, it was becoming increasingly clear to him that he was not up for round after round of pointless frustration which frequently made him question why he ever chose to go into psychology in the first place.

His life was already filled with too many doubts and too much questioning at the moment.

'_It'll be fine,' _Sweets decided to convince himself. '_Brennan and Booth…they're probably solid, at least in a professional sense. As long as they simply co-operate a little bit and don't give whoever is running their evaluation too much grief, they'll be fine. Nothing to worry about. It's not as if they desperately need me for this.'_

The psychologist closed his eyes again and began to meditate. His decision had been made and now all he wanted to do was clear his mind for a while.

* * *

><p>"I…I don't know if I can talk about this, Doctor Sweets," Thompson said as he sat on the couch across from Sweets almost an hour later. "It's all just…" The agent waved a hand around his head.<p>

"It doesn't have to be in any exact order," Sweets assured him. "We can just start with whatever you're comfortable with sharing." He leaned forward in his chair, his expression open and sincere.

"That day, the day of the shooting," the psychologist continued. "What comes to your mind first?"

Thompson took a deep breath and fidgeted, his foot tapping an erratic rhythm. Sweets waited patiently for him to respond.

"Breakfast," Thompson finally blurted out. "Dave…he uh…He really wanted to try out this new Mexican place when we met up that morning before heading out to that jewelry store. He kept saying that he felt like having some fajitas. I told him that it was crazy to want fajitas for breakfast. I mean who does that, you know?"

Sweets gave a slight nod in response and silently encouraged him to continue.

"But Dave…that's the kind of guy that he is," the agent added. "That he…was. But uh, I was wanting something more breakfast-y, I guess. Eggs and bacon or something like that. And Dave, he ended up going along with what I wanted. That…that was the last time that we ate together. The last meal that Dave ever ate."

Thompson looked up at Sweets, his haggard features twisting in distress as his eyes started to shine.

"He never did get to go to that Mexican place," the agent said. "And the last meal he ever got was something he didn't really want. What kind of a last meal is that?"

Sweets opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted when the door opened, and Booth burst into the room.

"What's going on, Sweets?" Booth demanded. "I just got an email saying that our evaluation is now being handled by a Doctor Ellis instead of you."

"Agent Booth…" Sweets started.

"What the hell is this?" Thompson growled, rubbing his eyes and turning toward the other agent.

"Do you mind, pal?" Booth snapped. "We're in the middle of something here."

"Agent Booth," Sweets tried again. "I'm in the middle of…."

But in that moment, Thompson had gotten up and was heading for the door.

"Agent Thompson," Sweets said, rising to his feet. "Please…we can…."

"Forget it…just….forget it," Thompson mumbled as he brushed past Booth on his way out of the office. Sweets watched, wide-eyed and helpless, as Thompson left, and Booth walked toward him.

"Answer my question, Sweets," Booth said as soon as Thompson was gone. "Why did you cancel on Bones and me? You're always looking for ways to rope us back into therapy, and now that you have it, you back out at the last minute. Is this some kind of shrinky mind game?"

As Booth talked, Sweets slumped downward, his hands resting on the back of the chair he had just been sitting in as he leaned forward. He hung his head as his mind drifted away from the words he was hearing to all of the events that had just occurred.

'_All that time…all that work…all of it for nothing,'_ Sweets thought to himself. '_I had been trying so hard to get Thompson to trust me enough to open up, and I was so close….So close to getting him to talk about his partner's death. And now….who knows how long it will be before I get that close again.'_

'_And who knows if I'll get another chance anyway.'_

"Sweets, are you listening?" Booth said, clapping his hands. Sweets' hands trembled in response, and he tried to hide it by crushing the upholstery in his grasp until his knuckles turned white.

This was nothing new to him. Booth had come into his office without warning a million times before. They all had. Often when he was in the middle of something. He should be used to it by now. It shouldn't bother him anymore.

"Answer me, Sweets."

The psychologist had an answer, and it would have been a simple thing to just open his mouth and let it out.

'_I'm sorry, Booth. I can't attend to your evaluation right now become I think I might have cancer.'_

Just one sentence, just a few words. That's all that it would take. But those words froze on Sweets' tongue and became clogged in his throat. Saying those words out loud would make it all even more real somehow. It would stop being just a worry inside his head and would become a part of his life. Something he would have to deal with.

And right now, the only thing keeping Sweets together was the fact that he had chosen to not deal with it for the moment.

Sweets had an answer…but something quite different escaped his lips.

"Get out."

Booth cocked his head at him.

"What did you say?" the agent asked, his tone a challenge. Sweets finally lifted his head, his eyes ablaze with anger.

"I said get out," Sweets repeated in a soft but venomous voice. "This is my office and you interrupted an important session with one of my patients. So now you need to leave so that I can get back to my work."

"Your work," Booth parroted, his own anger rising in response. "Our evaluation is supposed to be your work too, or is that not as important to you now? Or maybe you're still upset that we didn't tell you about us sooner? Well maybe that's because we didn't want someone poking and prodding at us day and night over it."

Sweets turned away and walked over toward his desk.

"This conversation is over, Agent Booth," he said, his voice shaking slightly from his rage. Booth walked over to him and grabbed his arm so he could turn the therapist to look at him. Sweets winced at the ferocity of his grip.

"It's over? Is that it?" Booth growled. "You know what our partnership means to Bones and me and you're just going to toss this over to someone else?"

"Let go of me," Sweets said as he tried to squirm away. But the agent merely tightened his grip and then grabbed Sweets' other arm so that the psychologist would be forced to face him.

"Are we not as important as that guy is?" Booth said, indicating the doorway with his head. "Now that your book is scrapped, you've moved on to other test subjects? Or maybe you just want us to say that you were right all along? Is that it? Fine, you were right and we were wrong. Happy now?"

Sweets had continued to struggle as Booth said all of this to him, but it was futile. The agent's grip was too strong for him to overpower, and Booth would only increase his vise-like hold if he tried to get away. By now, Sweets was sure that he would have bruises.

At first, Sweets had been enraged at being held like this, but soon another emotion began to blot all of that out: fear. Fear that his doctor's concerns would turn out to be warranted. Fear that he could have a terminal illness that could slowly kill him. More immediate, however, was the deeply ingrained fear that this situation had managed to stir inside him. It reminded him of other times when another person used to restrain him, used to yell at him.

It reminded him of when this person would be getting ready to hurt him.

Suddenly, Sweets was no longer an adult who was having an argument with someone he considered a friend. He was now five years old and looking to escape whatever "punishment" the man in front of him had in mind. In a last ditch effort, Sweets yanked himself away from Booth and fell backwards onto the ground. Sweets then scrambled back up to his feet and backed up against a wall.

"Sweets?" Booth said, stunned at what had just happened.

"I said go. Leave," Sweets gasped out. "Get out of my office." Any concern that had started to show on Booth's face melted away at the psychologist's harsh tone.

"Fine," Booth growled as he ground his jaw. "You want to be left alone? That's not a problem."

And with that, Booth stormed out of the office. Sweets remained where he was for more than a couple minutes, staring at the doorway. His breaths became deeper as he worked to rein in his panic and shock began to overtake him in its place.'

"Doctor Sweets, are you all right?"

Sweets blinked and then Becky appeared in the room. For a second, he wondered when she had been able to walk in without him noticing.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I had to leave my desk for a few minutes because my husband had something urgent to tell me about the kids. Is everything…?"

"It's ok, Becky," Sweets croaked. "I…I'm not feeling very well. I think I'm just going to take some stuff with me and work on it at home."

"All right," the secretary said. "Well, I hope you feel better soon."

She then left, and Sweets grabbed a stack of papers and files off his desk and stuffed them into his briefcase. He exited his office and drove back to his apartment as fast as he could. Once he was there, Sweets stripped off his suit and tie and put on a tee-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He placed his briefcase onto the dining table and was about to open it when he felt his stomach churn. He ran to the bathroom and tried to be thankful that he had been able to wait to do this until he got home as he vomited.

After he was done, Sweets sat down onto the tiled floor, his legs and feet chilled by a draft in the floor.

'_What am I going to do if I have cancer?'_

Sweets brushed a hand over his face and got up so that he could rinse the acrid taste out of his mouth.

'_What should I do right now?'_

The psychologist shook himself and walked back to the table. He arranged his files and papers into neat piles and got out his laptop and placed it in the center of it all. He then sat down and took a deep breath before opening the file at the top of the stack.

The only thing that made sense to him right now was work, so work was what he decided to focus his energy on.

* * *

><p>Sweets worked steadily for the rest of the day until late evening when Daisy came home.<p>

"Lancelot?" I didn't think that you would be home this early," she said, worry creasing her brow. "Is everything ok?" Sweets robotically turned off his laptop and turned toward her with a smile.

"Everything is fine, Daisy," he said. "How about we just order some pizza for dinner tonight?"


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Next chapter. I am sorry this took so long to post...and for those of you reading my The Snippets in the Stories fic, I am sorry that I haven't posted the next snippet yet. I am, however, going to post a sequel to the previous snippet and plan to do on Monday. Thank you for your patience. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**JoanneLikesVolleyball: **Thank you. I figured that I might be throwing a curveball there given my normal fare...Thank you for the review, and as far as this chapter goes...be prepared for more, "aww".

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. I agree that Booth bursting into Sweets' office (along with the rest of them) is a common sight and while it's often in a humorous vein, I do wonder at times if it wears on Sweets...As for he and Booth reaching an understanding...well I think you know that nothing comes easy in my fics...:)

**Rankor01: **Excellent points. I do think that sometimes Sweets brings his own unhappiness onto himself with his traits of jealousy and inability to trust, but you are also right in saying that Booth can be a bit of a bully at times...and once in a great while to those closest to him...Also, I agree that often the shrink jokes are meant to be humorous, but as I mentioned to **Peanutmeg**, I do think that it can wear on Sweets at times and perhaps chip away a little at his feelings of respect. Plus, I think that recently the therapist side of Sweets' work is not given a real treatment and wanted to explore that side of him here...But yes, you are right in saying that they both played a hand in this argument...but Booth took it too far. As to how things will progress from here...this chapter should start to show the direction I am going.

**Gandalf3213: **Thank you again for your continued support. :D And believe me, I completely understand the desire to "bash" Sweets despite the fact that he is clearly my favorite character. :) I am sorry that this took so long to update, but I think you will find that your wish came true...

The Break in the Ties—Chapter 4

One mindless evening of pizza and television and a dreamless night later, Sweets showed back up at his doctor's office and went over to the lab section of the building. His doctor had wanted him to have some blood drawn for additional tests and had set up for him to drop by the lab sometime in the morning.

Once he arrived, Sweets signed in on the clipboard sitting on the ledge of the reception desk, and a bored-looking nurse informed him that he would be seen in the order of his appearance on the list. The psychologist nodded and found an empty corner of the waiting area to sit down.

Sweets tried to find ways to pass the time while distracting himself from the reason for this visit, but found it to be an uphill battle. He eyed the stack of magazines on an end table next to him for a few seconds before coming to the conclusion that none of them were ones he would enjoy reading and theorizing that they were probably all hopelessly out of date. He then started to watch the people around them, but was slightly horrified to find that he could only come up with depressing ideas about who they were and why they were here.

"…_you've moved on to other test subjects?"_

Booth's angry words echoed in his mind, and Sweets put his head into his hands. He had managed to keep his blowout with Booth out of his thoughts last night, but now the incident continued to replay in his brain. He kept asking himself repeatedly last night why he hadn't tried to defuse the situation better when it happened, but could not come up with a satisfactory answer. He then tried to tell himself that it was no use to keep agonizing over the past.

'_I wonder if Booth would have cared if I had told him the truth.'_

Sweets lifted his head out of his hands. At first, such a thought seemed outlandish to him, but then he reached up and rubbed his arm where Booth had grabbed him and where he had found purple, finger-shaped bruises last night.

'_Booth's working partnership with Brennan means more to him than most things,' _Sweets thought. '_It makes sense and is perfectly understandable really. There's no room for anyone to possibly disrupt that arrangement and that makes me…an obstacle. And who's to say that Booth wouldn't have asked me to just do my job even if I had told him? After all, that's what I'm here for: shovel out the shrinky stuff, sign a form, make sure that Booth is certified to be in the field, make sure that he and Brennan can do their thing….'_

The psychologist had tried to remain calm while mulling this over, but he wasn't able to stop his hands from starting to shake.

'_I should have expected Booth to get angry at me. Why didn't I foresee it? I wasn't fulfilling my role: the shrinky role. I'm just the hand that signs off on Booth, the mouth that spews out random psych stuff in the hope that it produces a lead for a case, the warm body that sits in a chair while the rest of the team exist in their own world. Anything I do outside of that is just…noise and interruptions….'_

"Mr. Sweets?"

The sound of a nurse calling for him broke Sweets' line of thought, and the therapist did his best to put a smile on his face. He followed her into another room and sat down in a chair that she indicated with a wave of her hand. He rolled up his sleeve and then turned away from her as she approached. A piece of him registered the nurse's good-natured chatter, and he made sure to nod appropriately when needed, but the truth was he was trying hard to not focus on what was coming next.

The nurse tied a strip of rubber around his arm, putting it in place with a snap. Ever since he was a child, Sweets hated seeing blood, especially his own. He had learned to handle it in a more clinical fashion so that he would be able to visit crime scenes, look at corpses and the like. He had even learned to not flinch too much when he had to submit blood for medical reasons or when he occasionally participated in a blood drive.

But even with all that training, Sweets had trouble dealing with the sight of his own blood in particular and could never actually watch it being drawn. Seeing that scarlet liquid flow from his skin had been a reoccurring image from his nightmares since he was a very young child. The smell, the color, the accompanying pain from the injuries that would bring it forth…all of it came back to him in a kaleidoscope of memories.

"Ok, all done," the nurse said as she slapped a band-aid onto his arm. "The doctor will go over the results with you during your appointment on Monday."

Sweets thanked her and looked over at the bandage she had put on him. It was covered with yellow smiley faces. He tried to not think about the fact that now he was going to have to wait an entire weekend to find out how these tests turned out. He succeeded for the most part.

But as he unrolled his sleeve, Sweets kept thinking about how appropriate a stiff drink seemed right now.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Sweets sat in front of his office computer, correcting the same typo for the third time in a row. He had managed to avoid stopping by a bar on the way to work, but the way he felt right now did not seem much better than intoxication. His mind was rambling in a fog and his heart was still heavy from the events of yesterday. He kept thinking about how normally when he came in, he would catch Booth by the coffee pot in the break area or at his office, but Sweets hadn't been able to find him in either place. For a brief time, the psychologist couldn't shake the feeling that he was being avoided, but he continued to try to put that worry aside.<p>

Instead of brooding, Sweets picked up his cell phone and tried calling Agent Thompson for the third time that morning. The therapist had hoped to reschedule their appointment from yesterday as soon as possible to make up for their interrupted session. Sweets had been dismayed, however, at how Thompson never answered any of his calls…including this one.

Trying not to sigh, Sweets left yet another voicemail and hung up. He was now starting to worry about how much damage had been done during that aborted session and it was enough to make him mad at Booth all over again even with the ache he felt over how strained things were between the two of them at the moment.

'_It could be weeks before Thompson is ready to reach that point again…and I don't even know if I'll have that kind of time…I should have known that Booth has as little respect for my work as Brennan does. I was just fooling myself when thinking otherwise. He just isn't as straightforward about it as she is.'_

Sweets glanced down at the clock on his computer and realized that by now, Booth and Brennan were finishing up their first session with Doctor Ellis. The psychologist pondered how Ellis would not have been the first person he would have picked to evaluate them, but the more he thought about it, the more he could see Warner's logic in choosing him. As he tried to calm his rage over Thompson, Sweets wondered how that session had gone.

Suddenly there was the sound of his office door handle turning and Sweets was startled to see Brennan walking into the room.

'_Well I guess I am about to find out how it went after all,' _Sweets sighed inwardly. '_At least she didn't walk in while I was conducting a session.'_

"Doctor Brennan," Sweets said as he stood up from his office chair. "I take it that this is about your and Agent Booth's session with Doctor Ellis."

"It is," Brennan nodded. "Booth is speaking to his superiors now and might be visiting yours as well about possibly having you transferred back to our evaluation. Although, given how agitated Booth was by the end of our session, I believe that there will be less discussion and more arguing."

"I see," Sweets said as he clenched his hands tightly. "And Agent Booth didn't feel as if it was relevant to discuss such a move with me first?"

"I suspect that Booth felt that you wouldn't care," the anthropologist said. "But I will admit that I am surprised by his actions."

"So the reason you're here is because….?" Sweets asked.

"I thought that it would be appropriate to discuss the matter with you," Brennan answered. "Booth seemed very upset about something that happened between the two of you yesterday, but he wouldn't tell me what happened. And I don't completely understand why we were transferred to another therapist."

Sweets plopped down into his chair across from the couch and Brennan settled onto the couch itself.

"Did your superiors force this transfer?" she asked. "Because I am sure that either myself or Booth could…."

"I requested a suspension of all of my mandated evaluations and therapy assignments," Sweets interrupted her. "Agent Warner was simply carrying out my request when he reassigned you."

"That doesn't make sense," Brennan said, crinkling her brow. "Booth mentioned that you were seeing a patient yesterday." At the mention of that session, Sweets felt his insides clench.

"Thompson is currently the only patient that I am seeing," he replied. "His is a special case that needs my attention."

"But Booth also mentioned that this other agent took off upon him arriving," Brennan said. "So it's possible that this agent does not share your sense of urgency about his sessions with you."

All of this had been said in a straightforward, clinical manner which Sweets was aware was Brennan's style. Still, his emotions had become increasingly fragile over the last day or so and thus it was impossible for him to remain impassive in the face of her callousness.

"Doctor Brennan," Sweets said, his tone brittle. "You're stated many times that you do not regard psychology as a valid science or field of study. Has your opinion changed?"

"No," Brennan replied. "Psychology holds little in the way of solid scientific basis and has too many inherent flaws in its execution. And I would like to add that this evaluation that the Bureau has assigned to us is needlessly intrusive and pointless in assessing Booth's and my ability to work together professionally."

"Then given your conclusions on my field of study, and for that matter this examination of your partnership, why does it matter if I conduct the evaluation or not?" Sweets asked her.

"Logically, it shouldn't make a difference," Brennan nodded. "But unfortunately, logic does not seem to apply here. Doctor Ellis is argumentative and I found him condescending."

"Did you express your opinions about psychology to him?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "And at one point Booth tried to leave because he got a text. Booth said that it was important, but Ellis threatened to report us as non-cooperative and implied that there would be consequences for attempting to cut the session short. This made Booth very angry, and I think that he might try to hit Ellis at some point."

"It wouldn't be wise for Agent Booth to do that," Sweets warned her. "I know for a fact that Doctor Ellis is a fourth degree black belt and that he would carry out his threat about reporting the two of you if anything were to happen. You should also know that Doctor Ellis is very serious about his work and will not take kindly to having his profession belittled by you or Agent Booth. The best thing I could advise the two of you to do is cooperate and accept the fact that things will be different with him from what they were with me."

"Actually, I agree with Booth that the best thing to do is to either convince his superiors that this evaluation is unnecessary or to arrange it so that you will perform it," Brennan said. "Because you seem to better understand the situation."

Sweets narrowed his eyes at her as he felt his blood begin to boil. A tiny part of him insisted that it was flattering that she and Booth were so determined to have him as their therapist, but that part of him was overshadowed by the much bigger part of him that was angered that Booth or Brennan would be willing to go over his head and force this decision while giving him no say in it.

"As far as the evaluation goes, I doubt that the Bureau will back down," Sweets said. "I imagine that they feel as if they are already being more than accommodating toward the situation. And as far as whether or not I will perform it…Agent Warner understands my decision and will stand by it…as will I."

Now it was Brennan's turn to be angry, her lips turning downward and her eyes becoming stony.

"Is this another one of your experiments?" she asked. "To see how we interact with another therapist? Because I thought that I gave you sufficient warning about such actions."

Brennan's words cut Sweets to the bone. Ever since that incident, Sweets had kept his reasons for not telling the anthropologist about Booth surviving Pam Nunan's failed attempt to kill her to himself. He did it because he always felt that the truth was even worse than her assumptions. It had been a selfish, petty act of revenge against her for her consistent mocking of him and against her refusal to listen when he had warned both her and Booth about Nunan. Somehow, it had been easier for him all these years to let her think that it was an experiment and that he had been a cold, calculating psychologist than to attempt to face the truth.

'_I thought that she had forgiven me for that,'_ he thought to himself. '_Not that I deserved it, but….I guess I was wrong. And really, I shouldn't have expected it. I crossed a line…and sometimes there just isn't going to be any forgiveness.'_

"I can assure you that I am in no way involving myself in this evaluation or in your partnership," Sweets said quietly. "But obviously, I cannot prevent you from forming your own conclusions. And now I have a lot of work to do, so if you'll excuse me, Doctor Brennan."

Brennan glared at him for another minute before getting up and walking out of his office without saying another word. Once she had left and closed the door behind her, Sweets placed his head back into his hands. Soon he let loose the tears he had been holding back since yesterday.

Sweets felt his life falling apart….and he doubted that he would be able to stop it.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Next chapter. Today marks two years since I have joined this site and started writing Bones fic. Hard to believe. :) Anyway, to celebrate I will be putting out a lot of updates this week, so expect a series of new chapters, starting with more than one today. I would like to thank all of my readers who have followed my work during this time. Your support is always valued and appreciated. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Rankor01: **See and that to me is a pair of stumbling blocks in the Brennan/Sweets dynamic. I understand that her refusal to place credence in psychology is played for humor and is used to demonstrate the contrasts between them, but I think it is sometimes carried too far, both in canon and in fics I have read. Granted, one time it was used in a poignant way (Brennan's near-tearful comment that she "still hates psychology" after relating her foster-care experience to Sweets), but I think there should be some real dialogue between them at some point...Also, I think there is this unacknowledged "baggage" between them like the whole thing that was referenced in The Pain in the Heart or the way that her and Booth had disregarded Sweets in the past, that needs to be addressed. I think they have done a good job getting past it, but not so much in resolving it...As to how Sweets tries to handle his current crisis without that needed support, read on. :) We are just beginning on that journey.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. I think that is one of the angsty themes of Bones: how a misplaced word or action can lead to hurt feelings or misunderstandings between members of Team Jeffersonian. The important thing always seems to be how they work things out in the end and grow closer as a result. In this case though, it will be far more complicated...And believe me, this is just the beginning of the angst. I might have to put a warning as to how angsty this will be before things look up. :)

**Lives in the now: **When I was plotting the framework for this fic, I did ask myself about that: whether it was plausible that Sweets could have his faith in his position in the team tested this way. I agree with you that he does show more assertiveness now in certain ways (witness his comment to Booth in The Twist in the Twister where he tells him not to "get snippy with me just because [he] lied to Brennan.") But then I also consider how things when between him and Booth in The Prince in the Plastic. Sweets was quick to jump to negative conclusions about why Booth did not want him to carry a gun, even when Booth spelled out his concerns for Sweets' welfare (thus Sweets' "because you think I'm incompetent" line in that episode) which makes me think that there are still some insecurities there. Plus, I don't want to reveal too much for those who avoid spoilers, but I do know about a line of dialogue in an upcoming episode that implies that Sweets isn't always confident of the idea that Booth sees him as a friend. So yes, I think in the end, there are issues that need to be worked out between Sweets and the rest of the team. It won't be apparent right now, but I see the eventual plot line of this fic as sort of the "flip side" of what I think needs to happen before Sweets can truly move past his fears and insecurities. I hope I can make it worthwhile along the way. :)

**Lora Perry: **Thank you. This update will be kind of short, but I hope you enjoy how this fic unfolds from here.

The Break in the Ties—Chapter 5

Several hours later, Sweets stared at the four walls of his office, his mind at a loss to know what to do next.

After Brennan had left, Sweets eventually pulled himself together enough to that he could go back to his work. Work then became his mantra, his focus so that he could get through the day. When he had been in grad school, working toward more than one doctorate, Sweets had learned to harness his powers of concentration and shut the world out so that he was able to process large amounts of information and move through mountains of work at a breakneck pace. He became so immersed in his work, Sweets sometimes actually had to remind himself to do things like use the restroom or get an occasional snack or drink of water. There had always been something soothing about losing himself within his studies, and he found that to be even truer now with his work for the Bureau in these circumstances. Hours became like seconds, and even the most mundane chores like filling out forms became a way to separate himself from a life that he wanted to forget about for a while.

The result of all this work, however, was not only a completion of his more immediate tasks, but a clearing of almost all the assignments on his desk, leaving him with nothing more to be done. Now, he was faced with the prospect of empty time that he would have to find ways to fill.

His stomach rumbled, and Sweets contemplated the idea that perhaps getting a real meal would be a logical place to start. Still, food sounded far from appetizing right now and the idea was quickly discarded. He soon realized that he wanted something else far more than food or even rest. He wanted to return to that peaceful oblivion that he had just exited from while he was entrenched in his work, that feeling of standing still with time rushing by all around him.

Sweets stood up and walked out of his office and out toward the exits. Once he got to his car, he ripped off his tie and took off his suit jacket, throwing both of them into the back seat. He then got in and drove out of the Hoover's parking garage as fast as he could.

A destination occurred to him while he drove. He just hoped that it would be what he was looking for.

* * *

><p>It had taken Sweets a while to find a place to park and then to walk over there, but eventually he arrived at the Founding Fathers, and he slowly strode through the door. He carefully scanned the room for any familiar faces and found none. Satisfied, he made his way to a table in the back corner and ordered a large scotch.<p>

Watching the liquid swirl in his glass, he thought about the fact that scotch was the only hard liquor he really enjoyed, normally sticking to things like wine, beer or less potent mixed drinks. Deep down, he knew that the reason was because scotch had been his father's drink of choice on those rare occasions when he decided to have something besides a little wine with dinner. Sweets figured that it might be a little silly, but in some vague way, he felt a little closer to his dad, as if he was sharing this drink with him somehow.

One drink soon became two and quickly turned into three and then four. In the back of his mind, he knew that he was steadily getting drunk, a state he usually tried to avoid at all costs. Especially after the last time he had been drunk which had led to the fiasco surrounding both his and Booth's failed attempts to propose to the women in their lives at the time.

As Sweets downed his latest drink, his stomach twisted into knots. That whole incident, with Booth's doomed proposal to Hannah, had haunted him for a long time. He had not only questioned Booth's ability to forgive him for any hand he might have played in it, but also the very idea of him trying to be the agent's friend in the first place. For a brief time he had even considered severing all personal ties with Booth as a way to atone for what he had done. He had finally gained some comfort when Booth and Brennan finally decided to embark on a relationship that went beyond friendship and professional partnership. Still, those doubts had continued to lurk about in his thoughts and the events of this week appeared to validate them.

'_Why did I pursue a friendship with him and Brennan?' _he asked himself. _'Was I just so lonely at the time that I clung to the first people who treated me with any sort of kindness? Was I so scared after my parents died that I would never find a place of my own ever again that I grabbed the first place I could find?'_

The therapist felt the alcohol rushing through his blood, methodically stripping away the reserve and façade he normally worked to maintain. His emotions were blending and intensifying. But none of that stopped him from continuing to drink.

'_We're too different,' _he thought. '_Brennan and me. Booth and me. Brennan lives in the world of the empirical and of hard science. I'm always exploring the inner world of emotions and thoughts. Booth…he's the warrior, the leader of men. A guy-guy who's tough and action-oriented. Me, I'm just a thinker, too soft, too eager to feel.'_

Sweets finished his drink and made a motion to order another one. Even though it had given him much grief since he was a child, he no longer regretted who he was, knowing that there was no use in that. He knew that he couldn't and wouldn't want to try to be someone other than who he was at the core, no matter how much he enjoyed slipping into other minds, other personas, other people's souls at various times. Nor did he resent Booth, Brennan or any of the people he worked with for being who they were…even if meant that he wasn't compatible with them. At least not beyond a professional sense.

'_And perhaps that's just as well. There are always complications when you have personal connections within your work environment. Look at what Booth and Brennan are having to go through. All of the hassles they are encountering.'_

'_Look at all of the pain I'm feeling now.'_

Sweets gulped down his latest drink and as he sat his glass down onto the table, he was startled to suddenly see one of the bartenders standing in front of him.

"You've had enough, Doctor Sweets," the man said. "I've called you a cab. You should go home, sleep this off."

It took a full minute for the bartender's words to register and make any sort of sense to him. For a second, Sweets was angry that this man had made this decision for him, but the small part of his brain that could still reason noted that he was losing all semblance of control and that a breakdown was eminent.

"Thanks," Sweets slurred. He pulled out his wallet and paid his bill before walking on unsteady feet out of the bar. He found the taxi waiting for him along the sidewalk and he climbed in and mumbled his home address, unsure if the cabbie would be able to understand him.

The cab began to move and the motion made Sweets' stomach churn. He closed his eyes and took exaggerated breaths.

'_No. Not after everything else that has happened today…after the week, I've had…Don't top it off by throwing up in this cab,' _he told himself.

The therapist repeated those thoughts to himself as best he could over and over again as a way to remain somewhat coherent and push aside his growing nausea.

* * *

><p>Thankfully, the ride was not a long one, and he was soon deposited outside his apartment complex. He paid the driver and stumbled into the building. After an arduous trek up stairwells and down hallways, he made it to his door. It took a couple of tries, but eventually he was able to insert his key into the lock and enter. He slammed the door and stumbled again, his coordination continuing to go downhill. He took off his suit and changed into a tee shirt and a pair of sweatpants. It was then that he remembered that his jacket and tie were still in the car.<p>

'_I need to get my car tomorrow,' _he told himself. '_Wait…did I leave it somewhere where it could get ticketed or towed or something? Oh god. I need to get to it tonight.'_

Sweets' stomach churned again and he immediately lurched toward the bathroom. He had barely made it before he started to vomit.

'_Great. Throwing up two days in a row. I can't keep anything down anymore. Pretty sure that that's not good for my…my…whatever I might have.'_

As soon as he was done, Sweets slumped down until he was lying on the bathroom floor. His eyes watered up as he kept thinking about how he needed to get to his car, but he was almost certain that he would have difficulty driving it. He tried to think of an alternate plan, but thinking made his head hurt even more than it already did. Determined, he tried even harder to concentrate and was rewarded with the urge to vomit again.

Seconds after he was finished with some dry heaves, Sweets heard the door slam and the sound made his head throb.

"Lancelot? Where are you?" Daisy's voice called out. He wanted to answer her, but his attention was diverted by the need to lean over the toilet bowl again. A moment later, he heard the padding of her feet as she appeared in the bathroom doorway.

"Lance, what's wrong? Are you sick?" she asked, worry filling her tone.

"Daisy," he said, tears finally leaking out. "I…I need you to get my car." The intern stared at him for a second before sniffing a little.

"You're drunk," she said, the worry dissipating. "Lance, how could you? You knew that I was planning a special dinner for the two of us tonight and instead you go out and become intoxicated. You know that I've had a stressful week and now you want me to get your car and…."

"I'm sorry," Sweets warbled. "I'm so sorry Daisy. Please, I…I…."

He tried to say more, but ended up sobbing instead. Daisy sat down on the floor beside him.

"Baby, what's wrong?" she asked. "What's going on?"

"I can't talk about it," Sweets blubbered. "Not right now. Not until I know for sure."

"Know what for sure?" she asked, rubbing his back.

"The test. I don't know what it will say," he cried. "Oh god, what if it is true. Daisy, I…I don't know what I am going to do."

"Lance, I can't understand you," Daisy replied. "What are you talking about? What test?" Sweets shook his head.

"I need you to get my car before they take it away," he said, tears dribbling down his face. "I think that they are going to tow it." Daisy slowly got back up onto her feet.

"Ok, Lancelot, ok," she said. "Clearly, you are too inebriated to discuss things with me right now. I'll go ahead and get your car and when I get back, if you need me, I'll help you get to bed. But later, we need to talk about all this. Please Lance."

"Thanks Daisy," he babbled. "I'll do it. I'll talk, I swear. I'll tell you everything when I can."

He then told her what he could remember about where his car was and she grabbed his keys and left to get a taxi. Not long after hearing the door close behind her, Sweets leaned in for another round of vomiting.

When he was done, he went back to crying and wondering if his tears would ever stop.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Next chapter. I am running a little behind on some of the updates that I had planned for this week, but hopefully a fast update on this one helps to make up for it. :) On a side note, I am curious to know, have any of my readers not been getting story notifications or alerts? I noticed that I've been having problems getting notifications from the site and have been wondering if anyone else has been having that problem.

Anyway, onto the story. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**1917farmgirl: **Agreed. I know that I never enjoyed it within canon when members of Team Jeffersonian were feuding with each other, but on the other hand, I have wondered at times how long Sweets can continue to be "long-suffering" in his interactions with his friends/family before it starts to get to him. Plus, it has always seemed like he's been reluctant to discuss his own worries and feelings despite how eager he is to work with everyone else on theirs (as evidenced in episodes like The Bullet in the Brain or The Bones on the Blue Line and so on). So yes, very frustrating indeed...Thank you for the well-wishes at hitting two years. As I noted in my profile, according to the site I've submitted about 900,000 words. :O It hasn't always been fast, but it has been fun. :) So I hope to keep doing it for a while and I hope you and the rest of my readers enjoy it.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. Yes, angsty might have to become a new word so as to describe this fic. Granted, there are some lighter points in this chapter, but I will warn you now that things are not going to improve much for now. As to how Sweets is going to handle Daisy's curiosity...this and the next chapter will reveal that...

**D: **And that is the thing. Ideas that can sound good when the mind is clouded by grief, fear or alcohol often can be very destructive. Given Sweets' track record over the last couple of seasons, I could really only come to one conclusion as to what direction he would go in this situation...After that, it's going to be a matter of just how much he can surmount what life has given him...

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. I know that in the iPad app thing for Bones (the Sweets' Final Thoughts Journal) he mentions being worried about his relationship with Booth after the whole bit where Booth attempted to propose to Hannah, but nothing more was said about it in canon. Much like many events in the The Pain in the Heart episode, there was a lot of potentially volatile feelings flying about that never were resolved to my satisfaction, thus why I sometimes wonder if they ever were completely resolved...As to what Sweets will do next, stay tuned. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this update.

The Break in the Ties—Chapter 6

The next morning, Sweets cracked his eyes open and immediately wished that he hadn't.

Last night, he had continued to alternate between crying and vomiting while Daisy was gone. Thankfully, both his tears and his nausea began to abate by the time she showed up again. Soon afterwards, she helped him crawl into bed, and he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. He had no idea how long he had slept after that, but the light stinging his eyes told him that it was morning, and lack of warmth in the bed indicated that he was alone.

He rolled over and stared at the dents in the pillows and the creases in the sheets that had been left by her body before putting a hand over his eyes in an attempt to ease his throbbing head.

'_What was I doing last night?' _he asked himself. '_I must have gotten drunk. There's no way that feeling this fiercely wretched could not equate intoxication…But why did I do that?'_

Sweets moaned and pulled his blanket over his head. Right now, thinking hurt almost as much as the bright light did, but he wasn't able to stop himself.

'_I know why I did what I did. I do. It was so that I could stop thinking about…about it. That was stupid of me. Daisy, she….Wait, she had plans for last night. Dinner, a movie and after that….What did I do last night? Did I make a fool of myself? Did I crash my car? Did I make a huge mess? Is she…is she mad at me?'_

Sweets closed his eyes, and he was unsure if it was the alcohol or something else inside him that made his eyes tear up. So many things had gone wrong in his personal relationships this week. Too many. Sweets was beginning to feel like a failure as a friend or a loved one. He began to contemplate how he might beg Daisy for forgiveness when suddenly he felt the sheets around him being pulled away. He turned over and blinked vigorously to see Daisy sitting on the bed with a glass of greenish, thick-looking liquid in one of her hands.

Sweets groaned again. It was clear to him that forgiveness was out of the question and that she had come to poison him.

"Good morning, Lancelot," she beamed at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," Sweets mumbled.

"Well that shouldn't be a surprise," Daisy replied, her face suddenly stern. "Overconsumption of alcohol has numerous adverse effects for the liver, stomach and brain cells. The way you feel now is your body's way of telling you how toxic your systems have become."

"I know," Sweets nearly whispered. "What I did was stupid and I totally ruined your evening. And I am so sorry for that, Daisy….and for anything else I might have done."

"Apology accepted," Daisy said with a curt nod. "Now, I have something for you to drink. It will help your body recover from this hangover."

"What is it?" Sweets gulped.

"The result of some research I did on hangovers," Daisy grinned. "I came up with it myself. I considered all the issues surrounding alcohol poisoning and analyzed some folk remedies that have been used over the years. I devised this recipe from what I learned and from what I could find in the kitchen. So drink this and you'll feel better soon."

Sweets tentatively reached for the glass and took it into his hand. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that she hadn't actually told him what was in it. He then glanced up to see her expectantly waiting.

"Don't worry," she said. "I made sure to sweeten it with some strawberries."

Sweets nodded and swirled the liquid around.

'_I suppose that this couldn't be any worse than the calamari fiasco I made her endure last month,' _he told himself as he closed his eyes and prepared to drink.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, Sweets was still in bed, half asleep.<p>

He had managed to drink all of Daisy's concoction in one gulp and had been relieved to discover that he couldn't make out any discernible flavor other than a slight aftertaste of strawberries. After he had finished, he had plopped back down into bed, hoping that he wouldn't get sick again.

To his surprise though, he started to feel marginally better after drinking it and had decided to try and sleep some of this hangover off. After a little over an hour, his sleep became fitful and remained that way from that point on.

Sweets looked over at the clock and yawned. He considered trying harder to go back to sleep, but then Daisy jumped onto the bed.

"Come on sleepyhead," she said cheerfully. "It's time for you to get up. You can't stay in bed all day."

"But Daisy," he whined. "My head…."

"May hurt now, but that will pass over time," she continued for him. "Fresh air and mild activity will be good for you. Although, granted the pollution levels in DC do not allow for a completely wholesome environment."

Sweets stubbornly curled up and tried to yank the sheets back over him.

"Come on, Lancelot," she coaxed. "You need to get up to take a shower at the very least anyway."

Sweets sniffed and realized that she wasn't inaccurate on that assessment, but was still unwilling to move.

"Hey Lance," she purred, leaning close to him. "If you need me to, I can help you take that shower….since you are still debilitated by alcohol and all."

Sweets moaned again and then sat up, pouting the entire time. No matter how terrible he felt, he just couldn't turn down an invitation like that.

* * *

><p>Some time later, Sweets and Daisy walked slowly in the park. The shower had turned out to be relaxing and invigorating at the same time, and Sweets started to feel human again. The two of them got dressed afterwards and took the subway over to this park for a stroll. Daisy was careful to keep her pace leisurely, and Sweets appreciated the effort.<p>

They walked in silence, arm in arm and hand in hand, and Sweets took in his surroundings. Now that the sunlight was no longer agonizing to look at, the psychologist had to admit that it really was a nice day outside. He watched children play while under the watchful eye of nearby parents, saw street performers serenading for spare change, and glanced at other couples who were also draped against each other as they walked or sat together.

Sweets pulled Daisy closer to him, and she responded by wrapping her arms around his waist. Seeing all of these people enjoy some carefree time made him think back to the advice his father had given him once he had commenced with his college studies.

_It had been a sunny day and Lance had gone on a picnic in the park with his mother and father. The three of them had had a leisurely lunch and had spend time watching the clouds go by. At one point, his mother had gone off to get the three of them some ice cream treats, and Lance's father turned to speak to him._

"_Sport, even though the studies and the work you plan on pursuing are important, they are not more important than you. You are every bit as valuable as your vocation, if not more so. Remember to take care of yourself and to take time to live life no matter how demanding your path becomes."_

Sweets clung to Daisy a little bit more. Truthfully, ever since his parents' deaths, he had not been too concerned with making sure that he wasn't too wrapped up in his work. Now he was starting to wonder if he had made a severe mistake in making that decision.

"Lance, what's wrong?" Daisy asked, noting his downcast face.

"Just tired, I guess," he mumbled.

"I know what you need," she said. "You haven't eaten at all today. Let's get some lunch." Sweets swallowed hard.

"I don't know if I'm up to eating," he said.

"You may not feel like eating, but that doesn't change the fact that you need something," she replied. "Even a cup of soup or a sandwich would be better than nothing. Come on, let's head over to the Diner and see if we can find something that sounds appetizing to you."

* * *

><p>Over at the Royal Diner, the two of them sat across from each other at a table next to the window. Daisy was enjoying a hearty salad while Sweets nibbled at a sandwich. Daisy chatted about the latest work on her dissertation and what she had been doing in the lab. Sweets felt a strong pang in his heart while she talked about her favorite subject: her work with Brennan. Despite that though, he tried to retain a cheerful demeanor and was relieved when she moved on to safer subjects like the feud she was having with another member of her yoga class.<p>

"I'm telling you, Lancelot, she purposely disrupted my balance while I was trying to perform my opening Downward Dog pose," Daisy said. "But I'm not worried. She will regret doing that when we practice the Flying Pigeon pose again next week."

Sweets smiled and after finishing his sandwich, he reached over to take one of her hands into his while she continued to eat and talk. The sound of her voice and the feel of her skin were a soothing balm to his troubled mind, heart and body.

His calm was soon interrupted, however, by the sight of Angela sitting down next to Daisy and Hodgins sitting next to him while maneuvering a stroller that carried Michael. Sweets blinked at the stern expression on Angela's face.

"Oh, Angela, Doctor Hodgins," Daisy smiled. "How are you?"

"Ok, what's going on with you Sweets?" Angela demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "I talked to Brennan. She said that you refuse to do hers and Booth's evaluation so that they can keep working together and that you send them to this stubborn, pig-head shrink who is screwing with them."

Sweets let go of Daisy's hand and narrowed his eyes at Angela.

"Really?" he said. "Stubborn and pig-headed and screwing with them. Is that what she said?"

"Well no," Angela replied. "She actually pulled out this whole tribal analogy thing and used a lot more words, but that's what it boils down to. Sweets, this guy Ellis is threatening to assign Brennan to another agent. Why aren't you doing something about it?"

"Angela," Sweets said, his tone icy. "I've known Doctor Ellis for a while now, and I can assure you that while he is a bit conservative and more of a stickler for protocol, he is a fair-minded and non-judgmental therapist. As long as Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan show some restraint, respect and a reasonable amount of cooperation, he won't recommend severing their partnership, especially after he reviews their record."

"Respect for psychology?" Hodgins said. "Like that is ever going to happen for Doctor B."

"And since when have you known them to be all about blind cooperation when it comes to personal stuff?" Angela said. "You know that they have their own way of doing things. And the fact that you do know that is why you need to be the one doing this. I mean, I thought that they were your friends, Sweets."

"So did I," Sweets said quietly. There was a loaded silence that no one, not even Daisy, was willing to break for several minutes until Sweets stood up and pulled out his wallet and grabbed the check.

"My supervisor, Agent Warner, assigned Doctor Ellis to this evaluation and the Bureau is requiring it," he said. "It's out of my hands if Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan refuse to cooperate."

"Not according to Brennan," Angela shot back. "She says that you're the one who asked for this. She also said that you had some kind of argument with Booth and that's he's been stewing over it for the last couple of days."

"Yeah, trust me, Booth is not someone you want to cross paths with right now," Hodgins agreed.

"She's scared, Sweets," Angela snapped. "So is Booth. It's just that he's too guy-guy and macho to admit it. So you need to get your priorities straight before our team is ripped apart."

Sweets flinched as if he had been slapped before hardening his features and making his way out from the table with a confused looking Daisy following him.

"You're right Angela," Sweets said as he started to walk away. "That is exactly what I need to be doing."

The psychologist then threw a couple of bills onto the table and went to the cash register for a moment before leaving. Daisy gave Hodgins and Angela an apologetic look in response to their stunned expressions before taking off after him.

* * *

><p>The two of them immediately went back to Sweets' apartment, the psychologist silently brooding the whole way. Once they were there, Sweets took off his shoes and went into the bedroom, plopping down onto the bed. Daisy followed him in and sat down beside him.<p>

"Baby, what is going on?" she asked as she put her arm around him. "First last night and now that whole thing at the Diner. You have to talk to me about it."

"What…what did I say last night?" Sweets asked, suddenly pale.

"Something about a test and how you were worried about the result," she said. "Lance, I need to know what is happening." Sweets reached over and took her by the arms as he faced her.

"Daisy, I need you to trust me," he said. "I can't tell you right now, but I promise that I will tell you everything very soon. But for right now, I…I just need…."

"What?" Daisy breathed.

"I need you," Sweets replied. He then leaned over and kissed her while wrapping his arms around her. Daisy immediately responded by grabbing him and guiding him to lie down on the bed with her. The two ended up spending most of the rest of the day there.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Yes, I am finally back. After some time to get RL sorted out and some time to reflect on my fics and the show, I decided to get back to updating. I am sorry that it took so long to get to the next chapter for this one, but I hope my readers will enjoy it.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. :D Well I think angsty should be made into a word since I use it so much in reference to my fics. :) Unfortunately, things will not be easy for a while between Sweets and the rest of Team Jeffersonian. As to Daisy, I think recent episodes have shown that she cares for Sweets, albeit in her own unique way at times. I hope that you enjoy this new chapter.

**Shinju90: **Well I wasn't able to return that soon, but I hope to continue on again for now. For the moment, I will only be continuing with a few of my open projects, including this one. Thank you for your wonderful review of this and the rest of my work. I hope that you will enjoy the updates I will be putting out for the next while.

**Annibal: **Sorry about the long wait, but I am back to work now, and I hope to update this one again later this week. Thank you so much for your comments on my writing as a whole. Characterization, plot and story structure are all big for me, so I am very glad that you are enjoying how I put them all together in my fics. Hopefully this longish update will help with the long wait.

**Whirlwind421: **Thank you for the review. We still have a while to go with this fic, but I can say that some more interesting developments will start to build in this chapter. Also, thank you for all of the reviews you have been giving me here lately. I am glad that you are enjoying my work as a whole and I hope that you will enjoy the updates I have planned for this week as well.

**Doodlechick12: **Thank you. It took me a while to get back into fic writing again, but I hope that this longer update (along with other ones I have planned this week) will help a little to make up for that. As to whether or not Sweets will mend things with Team Jeffersonian...only time will tell...

The Break in the Ties—Chapter 7

The weekend sped by with Sweets spending as much of it as he could either asleep or in Daisy's arms. Monday came and he decided to take a taxi to his doctor's office to find out about the test results. After what had happened on Friday, the psychologist did not want to take any more chances when it came to driving until he knew more about what he was facing.

After he was dropped off in front of the building where his doctor's office was, Sweets felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a text from Daisy.

'_Hope your test goes OK. C U tonight. I love you, Lancelot.'_

Sweets managed to smile despite his anxiety. She had taken care of him this last weekend, making sure that he had plenty of food, rest and affection. More important than any of this, however, was the fact that she had provided all of that while still not pressing him to divulge more than what he was ready to share. No amount of words could express the gratitude he felt, but Sweets hoped that soon he could find some way to let her know the depth of his feelings.

'_Whatever my doctor says, I have to tell her tonight,'_ he told himself. _'I can't keep putting it off and keeping her in the dark.' _

'_I can't push her away too.'_

Sweets felt his heart constrict. All of the arguments and tense moments he had had with his friends this past week felt like signs that were pointing to a larger, painful truth. Even though he had recently carried the suspicion that his relationships with them had been tenuous all along, it still hurt to see these ties start to crumble.

The psychologist walked into the building and headed off toward his doctor's office. Right now, he only felt confident of his relationship with Daisy, even with the fears he sometimes had that she might leave him again too at some point. He needed the connection he had with her and thus, he knew that he would do anything he could to hold onto his relationship with her.

Even if that meant facing what he feared most at the moment.

* * *

><p>"I've looked at your test results, Mr. Sweets," his physician said, his expression solemn. "While these results are not one hundred percent conclusive, I am sorry to inform you that there is a strong possibility that you have cancer."<p>

Sweets did his best to show no outward signs of distress, but had been unable to stop the gasp that escaped his lips. There was a moment of silence before the therapist found his voice again.

"Um, do you know what kind…I mean, what can you tell me about it?" Sweets stuttered.

"I'm afraid that it looks like it could be pancreatic cancer," the doctor replied. "Although there is no way to tell what stage it could be in from just these tests."

Sweets swallowed hard. Over the last couple of days, he had done some research on cancer from his laptop at home. He knew enough to know that pancreatic cancer is difficult to treat and is considered to be one of the deadliest forms of cancer with a low survival rate.

"Now, the important thing to keep in mind right now is that these tests, while indicative, are not definitive," the doctor continued. "And even if I was able to give a diagnosis of cancer beyond a shadow of a doubt, there is still the fact that we do not know how far it has progressed. Caught early enough, pancreatic cancer is still treatable and curable. What I would like to do is schedule you for a sonogram so that we can get a clearer picture of what we may be dealing with here. Then I can refer you to an oncologist or some other specialist if necessary."

"All right," Sweets mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

The doctor then left and a nurse came in to set up an appointment date for the sonogram and to give him instructions on what to do on the day of the appointment. He repeated the time and day he was to show up three times in his head in an effort to make sure that his shell shocked brain could absorb the information. Once she was finished, Sweets thanked her and left.

He walked out the door and watched the cabs speed down the street in front of him. He had originally planned on getting another taxi to go to work, but instead turned to walk toward the nearest subway station.

Ever since the subway accident where Sweets had to watch someone die right in front of him, the therapist usually avoided traveling by subway whenever he could, especially when he was by himself. This time, however, he put that discomfort aside. It would take an additional hour for him to get to work this way, but Sweets was certain that he would need that extra time to prepare himself for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Sweets leaned back in his office chair and stretched. After spending all his time on the way to the Hoover Building emptying his head of any thoughts related to his personal problems, the therapist had managed to get into a suitable mindset to tend to his work. He spent the rest of the morning plowing though paperwork that had continued to pile up and had begun to focus on a stack of reports that Warner assigned to him the previous week. He even completed a profile that had been requested by an agent investigating a series of kidnappings in the area and went to the agent's office personally to consult with him for over an hour.<p>

Sweets then got back to his office and began answering emails that he had gotten over the weekend and had just finished about half of them when he decided to stop for a moment to take a break. By this time it was early afternoon and he was pleased with how quickly the time had gone by.

The heading on the last email in his inbox, however, made him frown again. It was from Warner, and Sweets was worried about what it could be about. He remembered what Brennan had said about Booth possibly pressuring his superiors to get the psychologist reassigned to their evaluation and thus, Sweets dreaded finding out about the email's contents.

Taking a breath, Sweets moved his mouse to click on the email and scanned the words that came up on his screen. It turned out to be a note asking the psychologist for updates on both his current medical condition and on the latest developments with Agent Thompson. No mention of Booth, Brennan, or their evaluation. Sweets heaved out a sigh of relief.

That relief only lasted a moment though as Sweets continued to stare at Thompson's name on his computer screen. He knew that despite the agent's repeated attempts to dodge him that Thompson's Bureau mandated therapy could not be put off indefinitely. If Thompson continued to avoid him, Sweets would eventually be forced to either declare him uncooperative and let the agent's supervisors take a disciplinary step with him or he would have to request that Thompson be assigned a new therapist.

Neither of these choices appealed to Sweets. His sessions with the agent, along with what he had learned from his files and from talking to Thompson's co-workers, had convinced the psychologist that Thompson was a good man and an asset to the Bureau. Sweets hated to think that this great career could be cut short needlessly. Even worse though, was the thought that Thompson might not receive the help he needed to move past this tragedy and toward healing.

Every time he considered having Thompson transferred to another therapist, Sweets felt something inside him rankle at the idea, but now he was beginning to question this feeling.

'_It's not like I am the only person who could treat him,' _he told himself. '_There are other therapists, great ones, here at the Bureau. It might take some additional time, but eventually, I am sure that Thompson could learn to work with another psychologist. I can't let professional pride and satisfaction get in the way of what is best for him at this point.'_

Sweets pulled out his cell phone and dialed Thompson's number. He had expected to be greeted with another opportunity to leave a voicemail and was surprised when the agent answered.

"Doctor Sweets?" Thompson said. "Um, hey, I know that I haven't called you back and I'm sorry about that."

"It's all right," Sweets assured him. "I know that things went badly during our last session, and I can't apologize enough for that. But I would like to schedule a makeup appointment and then perhaps we could…."

"That's ok, Doctor Sweets," the agent interrupted. "I…I'm good now. Really. I just needed a chance to say some stuff about…about that day and all. We don't have to continue with therapy."

"Agent Thompson, I understand that you might feel reluctant to go over such a painful topic again," Sweets replied. "And I am deeply sorry that you have been placed in this position. But you need to talk about this, to confront it. Until you find a way to deal with your partner's death, I can't, in good conscience, certify you to return to field work."

"But I told you that I am fine," Thompson said. "Why can't you believe me and let this go?"

"Because I know that you haven't let it go," Sweets answered. "Because I know that it is still overwhelming you. And because I sincerely do not want you to suffer needlessly. I'm asking for another chance. Please give therapy and me another try."

"Look, I appreciate that you care, Doctor Sweets. I do," the agent said. "But maybe…maybe it's time I consider leaving the field anyway. Maybe it's time for a change."

"Agent Thompson, I…."

"I'm sorry," Thompson said. "I…Hey, let me get back to you, ok? I've got a lot to think about now, and I just need some time to sort it out. I'll let you know what I've figured out in a couple of days, all right? I promise."

Before the psychologist could say another word, Thompson hung up. Sweets stared at his cell phone for a couple of minutes before turning his attention back to the email from Warner that was still on his screen. He knew that Warner needed an answer, and his fingers paused over the keys. After another minute of consideration, his fingers finally started to move.

"_Agent Thompson is still experiencing some difficulty in discussing his partner's death. More time will be needed for therapy and assessment…."_

Sweets still felt uneasy at his decision to stall Warner, but he could bring himself to make any other decision. All he knew for certain is that something inside him was driving him to persist with Thompson's case, something he couldn't name.

Something that he needed more than ever right now.

* * *

><p>"Have the two of you given any thought to what we discussed the last time we met?" Ellis said, peering over the rims of his glasses.<p>

His gaze was focused on Booth and Brennan sitting on a couch together across from him. Brennan shifted about for a moment in an attempt to find a more comfortable position while Booth let his knee bounce.

"Agent Booth, Doctor Brennan?" Ellis said.

"I did consider the questions you asked us last time," Brennan answered. "But I fail to see the purpose behind them."

"You do not see a reason for taking the time to assess the current state of your professional partnership in light of the dramatic change in your personal relationship with Agent Booth?" Ellis asked.

"No," the anthropologist replied. "I know that you have access to files that detail our work here at the Bureau and the cases we have solved. The rate of successful investigations and reports about the methods we have used and procedures we have followed should be sufficient to illustrate the effectiveness of our partnership."

"And what are your thoughts on this, Agent Booth?" Ellis asked. Booth continued to stare at a wall until Brennan nudged him.

"What?" Booth said. He looked over to see Brennan tilting her head at the psychologist, and he began to nod. "Right. Whatever she said."

"Agent Booth, Doctor Brennan," Ellis said, his voice stern. "I can appreciate that you might feel less than enthusiastic to participate in this evaluation. A situation like yours, lovers who have worked closely together for years and who are now expecting a child, would tend to be insular by nature. Rest assured, however, that I am not here to explore every nuance of it nor am I actively seeking evidence to support any preconceived theories I might have about the viability of this partnership. I am simply carrying out a directive from the Bureau to examine your partnership. Now, it will involve some personal questions by necessity, but I am confident that we can all cooperate to make this as painless as possible."

"I still do not understand what you can hope to learn," Brennan said. "But I can cooperate."

"Good," Ellis said. "Agent Booth?"

"Fine, whatever," Booth huffed.

"Good," the psychologist nodded. "Now, how about we start with something a bit more challenging? I would like each of you, in your own words, to share with me your best estimation of when you realized that your partnership crossed over from the purely professional to one more intimate in nature." Booth leapt up from his chair.

"No, I'm not doing this," the agent grumbled.

"Booth," Brennan said, looking up at him.

"No," Booth repeated. "Look pal, you want to know more about how we work together? Fine, we'll talk about that, but that's all we're talking about. I'm not going to sit here while you poke around inside our heads just so you can have something to write about on a bunch of forms."

"All right," Ellis said, closing the notebook in his lap. "Fine."

"That's it?" Brennan asked. "You are done with your evaluation and we are free to go now?"

"No," Ellis said, standing up and walking over to his desk. "This session may be over, but I assure you that this evaluation is not. I am sending notice that the two of you are uncooperative and refuse to follow the Bureau's mandates. I will be recommending a week long suspension of your partnership until our next session. Whether or not it is extended from there will be contingent on your behavior in that next session."

"You can't do that," Booth growled at him. Ellis met the agent's fiery gaze with a determined one of his own.

"I can and I will," Ellis said. "Quite frankly, I do not know how Doctor Sweets was able to conduct any meaningful sessions with the two of you, given your flagrant lack of respect and decorum. But while he might have allowed this sort of behavior, I will not. So I suggest that the two of you use the time until our next session to seriously consider both my questions and how you would like this evaluation to play out."

Both Booth and Brennan stared at the therapist, their eyes lit up with anger, but Ellis did not flinch. No other words were spoken between the three of them, but all of them had one thought on their minds.

Any sort of compromise was going to be difficult to achieve.

* * *

><p>After what seemed like an endless journey along the streets of DC, Sweets finally made it back to his apartment late that evening. By that point, he was ready to crawl into bed and seek the oblivion that sleep could provide. As he inserted his key into the lock, however, he remembered that Daisy would be waiting there for him.<p>

Sure enough, he opened the door to find her sitting on the couch with stacks of papers neatly arranged on the coffee table across from her. When she saw him come in, she sat the notebook she was flipping through down onto one of the stacks and beamed at him.

"Hi Lancelot," she said. She stood and rushed over to embrace him, her ponytail swishing as she moved toward him.

"How was your day?" she asked as she squeezed him. "Mine was super busy. Doctor Brennan told me about this book that could help me with my dissertation and I…."

"Daisy," Sweets interrupted. "I…I need to sit down." Her smile immediately vanished.

"Oh, ok," she said, letting him go. Sweets emptied the contents of his pockets onto the coffee table and then let her guide him to sit with her on the couch. Once there the therapist took off his suit jacket and tie, tossing them to rest over the side of the couch.

"Is this about the test you had today?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around him. Sweets fell back against the cushions and reached over to hold her. She watched him expectantly but silently until he was ready to speak.

"Yes," he said. "My…my doctor has to run some more tests. He thinks I might….that I might…."

Sweets felt his tongue grow numb as the words became stuck in his mouth. He hadn't said the words aloud ever since this had all begun. He couldn't. Saying it would mean the end of being able to avoid thinking about it, to avoid dealing with it.

"Baby, what is it?" Daisy asked. Sweets felt his throat constrict even more and his eyes water up.

"My doctor thinks…that I have cancer," Sweets choked out. "Pancreatic cancer."

Once the words were out, the dam broke and Sweets began to weep again. Daisy was stunned for a moment, but then she responded by grabbing him to hold him even tighter.

Sweets clung to her, not daring to let her go.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update this. I expect updates to be a little sporadic for a while as I adjust to some work issues and getting back into a fic writing routine. I do appreciate everyone's patience as I work this out. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. I think you will be saying that even more before this fic is through...I agree that it would have been unbearable for Sweets to have no one to talk to and I often suspect that he does try to be a little more open with Daisy...Yes, I have thought a lot recently about how it does seem like at times the team tends to take Sweets and his approaches for granted and thus I wanted to show the other side of things, so to speak. I hope you enjoy this update.

**Bdarknyss: **Thank you. :) I am less of a Swaisy shipper myself than I used to be ever since the end of season five, but I am willing to give her the benefit of the doubt more these days, especially after some of her more recent episodes this past season. As to where it will go next...I can say that I am just getting started. :)

**Doodlechick12: **Happily my hiatus turned out to be shorter than I thought it might be. There are still some issues I am having with the recent direction of the show, but I am trying to remain optimistic about the upcoming season. Sadly, updates might be a little slow for a bit longer, but I hope that they will be worth the wait.

**Whirlwind421: **Yes, I hope to be updating again for a while even if it's a little uneven at first. As to the path Sweets' illness and treatment will take...well that will be explored more here soon.. I agree that given the type of work she does and the type of person that Daisy is, that she would not be as intimidated by Sweets' cancer as others might be and you will see what I mean in this chapter.

**Seletua: **Thank you. :D Speaking of Measure and Nocturne, I have not forgotten about them, and hope to continue that storyline here soon...For now though, I will be spending a little more time on this fic. I am glad that you liked my latest chapter...Yes, I am sure you have noticed how I like to leave a little emotional hook or cliffhanger at the end of my chapters. It makes it feel a little more like the show when I do that. :) And yes, the news will reach Team Jeffersonian at some point...but as to how they find out and how they respond, hmmmm...Anyway, thanks again for your support while dealing with my writer's block. I hope to be back for a while.

**JoanneLikesVolleyball: **Thank you for the very kind review...I do think that there is more to Daisy these days than what we sometimes get onscreen (her recent actions in episodes like Feud bear that out, IMO) and I wanted to explore more about why they are a couple in this one...As to her being the one to spill the news...we will have to see. :)

**Butterfly 2000: **Thank you. And do not worry about English not being your first language. I just appreciate that you read my work and that you enjoyed it...I agree that Sweets is an underrated character by many on Bones and that there is so much more that could be explored about him and his life...Also thank you for your comments on characterization. A huge thing for me is trying to keep everyone in character, so it always makes me happy to hear that a reader could see these characters we love acting the way I portray them. :) Anyway, I am glad that you enjoy my work thus far and hope that you will continue to do so.

**Luckyducky09: **Thanks. I know that the update was slow in coming, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

**Em's Pride: **Thank you...I am glad to be back at it, even though I am still working out the kinks of getting back into a routine...I also waver at times on my feelings about Daisy, but I wanted to try to add more of her perspective in this one...As to my characterizations, I must confess that I see myself as trying my best to capture the wonderful work that JFD puts into portraying Sweets more than anything else. I can honestly say that his work with Sweets continues to inspire me even when I have issues with other aspects of the show...Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this and upcoming updates as well.

**Lives in the now: **Thank you for the return greeting. :) I am glad that you like the work I am doing with this one. I am trying for something a little different, and I will admit, it's one my favorite projects since completing The Measure of the Spirit...I think part of the problem with Daisy is that we only see a couple sides to her since she only appears occasionally on the show and thus, I wanted to go into more about why her and Sweets are probably a couple...Yes, I do think that most psychologists would be intimidated by the likes of B&B and thus, many have no idea just how much talent Sweets has in dealing with them. :)

**Dance is a sport: **Thank you for the review of this and the nod to having read all of my stories. I am really glad that you enjoyed them... I know I was somewhat slow on updating, but I am hoping that the next couple of chapters will come a little faster. In the meantime, I hope this update will be worth the wait

The Break in the Ties—Chapter 8

The next morning, Sweets struggled to open his eyes, his lashes still sticky from tears.

Last night, neither him nor Daisy said much of anything else after he shared the news from his doctor with her. Instead, the two of them ended up in the therapist's bed, holding each other silently with Daisy only occasionally murmuring reassurances into his ear. Her voice had been watery, but calm all night. Eventually, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Sweets continued to stir and rolled over to see that Daisy was already up. He sat up and held his breath so he could listen. Soon, he heard the faint sound of humming, and he knew that she was probably making breakfast. The psychologist swung his legs over the side of his bed and scrubbed at his eyes. Despite having slept for hours, he still felt drained both physically and emotionally. At this moment, he could not fathom how Daisy had had the energy to get out of bed and actually attend to things like breakfast.

Sweets walked out of his bedroom and toward the kitchen to see her starting to set the table.

"Good morning, Lancelot," she chirped.

"Daisy…Daisy, I….." Sweets was abruptly cut off when Daisy pounced on him and gave him a kiss. He responded by kissing back and holding her for a moment before attempting to speak again.

"Daisy, I am sorry," he mumbled. "I should have told you sooner about what was going on, but….I just couldn't say it. I couldn't. And now with everything else…I just wanted to say that I am sorry for that and for other nights here recently too."

"It's all right," she said as she let him go. "I think I understand. You were just working your way through it and were trying to shield me in the meantime."

"Shield you?" Sweets repeated.

"Yes," Daisy said, her ponytail bouncing. "You wanted to wait until your doctor was more certain of his diagnosis before telling me so that I wouldn't have to worry. That was very sweet and brave of you. Facing that by yourself all that time."

"I don't know about that," Sweets frowned.

"Well I do," she said. "I could tell that you had a lot on your mind. I wish you would share it with me more often, though. You know how I feel about that... But I know that that is not always easy for you. And given the circumstances, I am certain that somewhere in your brain, you knew how anxious I would be over the results of your tests. So you waited until you knew for sure that there was something to be concerned about. That is the kind of person you are."

Daisy embraced him again, and Sweets hung his head. If he was honest with himself, he knew that she was partially right in thinking that he did want to wait to tell her until he knew for sure. But that decision had been clouded with so much fear and anger that it was impossible to sort out the nobler intentions from the more cowardly ones. Still, he continued to be stunned at the amount of faith that Daisy had in him.

After letting her go, Sweets finished setting the table for her while she served the food onto the plates before finally sitting down.

"I made blueberry pancakes," she beamed. "And here is some grapefruit. And here is some green tea for you to drink with them."

"Daisy, what kind of breakfast is this?" Sweets asked, raising an eyebrow at the spread in front of him.

"A cancer fighting breakfast," Daisy answered. "The phytochemicals in these foods have been proven to help combat the free radicals that can lead to cell mutation. And right now, you need the extra boost that these foods can provide."

"Daisy, I…I appreciate this," the psychologist stammered, poking at his grapefruit with his fork. "But I…what's the use?"

Sweets let his fork drop onto his plate and placed his elbows onto the table so he could put his head into his hands.

"I mean, I am looking at pancreatic cancer," he said. "One of the deadliest cancers out there. And if it's had a chance to spread…It'll only be a matter of months or maybe a year or two at the absolute most. What good is food going to do then?"

Sweets kept his head down as he reached over and grabbed at Daisy's hands.

"I am grateful that you are trying to take care of me," he said. "But is there really any point?"

Sweets felt his eyes burn as he said this and tried to swallow around the lump forming in his throat. Suddenly a hard squeeze to his hand made him look up and see Daisy staring at him. Her eyes were moist, but her expression was determined.

"There is a point to this, Lance," she said. "The point is that you can't give up. Even if it turns out to be true, even if you really do have pancreatic cancer, this prognosis does not necessarily mean the end. I've been doing some reading too, and I know that there are people out there who have beaten it. Given the statistics I have seen, there is no logical reason why you couldn't be one of those people."

Daisy swiped at her eyes and took a deep breath before speaking again.

"Plus, with all the research being done out there, there are cutting edge medical techniques being developed all the time, some of which might not be known to the general populace," she continued. "There is always a chance that some oncologist could come up with something that could help you beat the odds."

She then squeezed his hand again and sniffed hard even as she did her best to keep her expression neutral.

"So you need to stop moping and start fighting, Lance Sweets," she added. "Don't just give up and feel sorry for yourself. There are a lot of people here who need you and the work that you do. And…and I love you and I need you too."

Sweets cradled her hand into the both of his and kissed it before looking her in the eye.

"You're right, Daisy," he said. "You're right. And I promise that I will keep fighting no matter what happens from here on in."

Daisy smiled and leaned over to kiss him before the two of them started in on their breakfast. Sweets took a couple of bites of his pancakes and he had to admit that they were really good.

"I have to go in for an ultrasound today," Sweets told her. "My doctor wanted to get this done as soon as possible, in case…you know…..Anyway, could you please go with me?"

"Of course I will," Daisy said. "I might have to make adjustments to my work schedule, but I am confident that I can do so while still keeping my work up to the standard that Doctor Brennan expects of me."

Sweets smiled at her and went back to eating. He was still a little unsure about the combination of foods that she had prepared for him, but right now it hardly seemed to matter.

Instead he decided to relish both the delicious food and the love that went into preparing it.

* * *

><p>Angela stood in front of her computer screen and stared at her work. She had just finished some reconstructive computer renderings of various scraps of clothing and pottery that had been sent over from the archeology section of the Jeffersonian. As she surveyed the completed images, she began to think about the events of the last couple of days.<p>

Cam had notified all of them of Ellis' suspension and they had all been stunned. Fortunately, they were not in the midst of any active homicide cases, so for the moment there were no concerns about Brennan or the rest of them having to work with another agent. Since the anthropologist was unable to work with Booth, she ended up spending more time at the lab, cataloging and identifying remains as well as working more with her interns. The rest of them took on work from other departments as well as continuing to handle routine tasks within the lab itself.

Booth was rarely seen at the lab these days, only stopping by to pick up Brennan for lunch or to meet her there after work. Otherwise he kept to his office at the Bureau.

Angela sighed and saved her work. She had often wished for a respite from all of the death and despair that came with their work for the FBI. Now that she had it, she couldn't help but feel like there was something missing.

"Hey Ange, want to go to lunch?"

Angela looked over to see Hodgins walking into her office. The artist smiled and put her control pad for her computer onto her desk before walking over to share a kiss and an embrace with him.

"Sure," she said. "I'm pretty much done here anyway for now. Want to try something different this time? Thai food maybe?"

"That's good with me," Hodgins nodded. He then watched as Angela let him go, her shoulders slumping as she walked over to grab her purse.

"Babe, what's wrong?" he asked. Angela let out a deep sigh.

"It's this whole thing with Brennan and Booth not being able to work together," she said. "Jack, what if this suspension is just the beginning? What if the Bureau decides to make this permanent? You know that Brennan won't work with anyone but Booth."

"Yeah, I know," Hodgins frowned. "This sucks. I'm all about catching murderers, and now I have no idea when that will happen again." The entomologist put his arms back around Angela's waist.

"But hey, at least you get a break from all the dead bodies, right?" he said. "I know how that gets to you sometimes."

"Yeah, but now I am worried that my job is just going to be making digital dioramas of tribal dwellings and reconstructing cavemen's skulls all day," she said. "Does that make any sense? That I'm actually worried about not seeing those disgusting remains here anymore?"

"Of course it doesn't," Hodgins grinned. "But that unpredictable and contradictory side is part of the reason why I love you." Angela laughed and kissed him again before leaning against him, her smile fading.

"You know, none of this would be happening if Sweets was the one doing this evaluation," she said. "What is going on there? Why isn't he doing it?"

"I don't know," the entomologist said. "Cam and I were talking about this yesterday, about how none of us had seen Sweets for the last few days. He doesn't return his phone calls and if you try going to his office, he's never around. Or at the very least, he won't see anyone. It's like he's invisible. Do you think…that maybe something is wrong with him?"

"That's just it, I don't know either," Angela huffed. "I know that both Brennan and Booth had some kind of argument with him, but neither of them are willing to talk about it. But other than that, I have no idea." She pulled away from Hodgins and began to pace around.

"You think maybe I was too harsh with him," she said. "I mean, he really seemed upset when we talked to him."

"You're thinking that he's avoiding us because he's mad at us?" Hodgins asked. "Come on Ange, that's not Sweets. He's not the kind of guy who holds grudges or gives people the silent treatment just because of one little argument."

"No, I suppose not," the artist replied. "Still, he did seem really agitated about something, and it looked like Daisy didn't really know what was going on either. I just keep thinking that there is something we should be doing something, even though I have no idea what it should be."

* * *

><p>"Just lie down and lift up your shirt, Mr. Sweets."<p>

Sweets nodded as he went over to the examination table, Daisy following him close behind. The two of them had taken his car over to the doctor's office and were now being seen by an ultrasound technician who introduced herself as Mary. The technician looked over Sweets' file as the psychologist lay down and looked up at the ceiling while tentatively pulling his forest green tee shirt up toward his shoulders. He felt goose bumps rise all over his abdomen, and he suspected that it had little to do with the slight chill in the room.

Mary then spread a light blue gel across his chest, smearing it as she applied it. Sweets shuddered and looked back over at Daisy, who immediately took one of his hands into both of hers.

"It's ok, Lancelot," she whispered into his ear. Sweets nodded and went back to studying the ceiling tiles. He tried hard to block out what the technician was doing, uncomfortable with being so exposed. He was only marginally successful and as Mary started to press the sensor wand onto his abdomen, Sweets was grateful that Daisy was there with him.

"Do you see anything?" Daisy asked her as she started to peer at the monitor next to them. Sweets glanced over at the images on the screen, and he couldn't deny that a part of him was fascinated by the chance to see inside his own body this way.

He then looked back at Daisy, but she was still staring at the monitor, her eyes and her forehead crinkled in concentration. It felt strange to Sweets to be in this position. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he had imagined this scene playing out sometime in the future, but it had been a far happier scenario with Daisy being the one laying on the table and him trying to make something out of the images on a screen.

Sweets bit back a sigh and let his eyes drift back and forth from the monitor and the ceiling above him He thought back to when he had proposed to Daisy almost two years ago. When she had accepted, Sweets had been thrilled and had begun to fantasize about building a life and a family with the woman he loved. He knew that Daisy had still been somewhat uncertain and at times opposed to having children of her own, but he was convinced that once she completed her doctorate, she would reconsider the possibility. For the first time since his parents passed away, Sweets thought that he would finally reach a sense of completion with his new and growing family.

He could hear Daisy discussing something with Mary, but the psychologist was too lost in his own thoughts to really pay attention. He pondered how it hadn't been easy to let Daisy back into his life and heart after she returned from Maluku. She had surprised him by being more than willing to pick up where they had left off in their relationship. But even though he had found it impossible to resist the lure of the comfort that physical intimacy with her could bring, a large part of him did not want to resume things with her. He was hurt, and he had been hurting for months after she left, and somewhere in the darker recesses of his soul, he wanted her to hurt too.

Once again though, Daisy had surprised him. Instead of giving up and walking away in the face of his attempts to keep her at arm's length, she accepted the terms he had established for her. She didn't ask for anything more than what he was willing to give whether it was a short talk over lunch or an evening of passion at his place. Over time, he felt increasingly uncomfortable with this arrangement and realized that he would have to make a decision: take her back into his heart or walk away from her for good.

Sweets took a deep breath to distract himself from the hard prodding of the wand against his flesh and bones. Making a decision about Daisy had been one of the most agonizing things he had ever done, but looking back on it, he figured that he would have made the same choice that he did no matter how many times he went over it in his head. He had been pleasantly surprised to discover that the whole thing led to almost a new start for them as they both worked to truly get to know each other better and resolve the issues that still lingered between them.

Daisy continued to hold his hand even as she chatted with the technician. Moments like this convinced Sweets that he had made the right choice, but then he found that he couldn't stop thinking about why he had proposed to Daisy in the first place.

'_I wanted to live my life…really live it…without fear holding me back,' _he thought silently. '_To experience love and not let my life be dominated by my fears and insecurities. And I love her…so why can't I propose to her again? What is holding me back every time I think about it? Am I too afraid that she will leave me again?'_

'_Did I ever really forgive her for leaving me before?'_

Sweets pushed those questions away, struggling to ignore the doubts that were twisting about inside him. This moment did not seem like the right time to contemplate them or what could happen in the future.

After all, he wasn't sure how much more of a future he would have.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Next chapter. This will be kind of a short one, so I may try to get another one up some time this weekend...although the holiday might make that problematic. We will see...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Whirlwind421: **I kind of picture Hodgela as sort of watching the group for issues (that is when Sweets isn't doing it too :D) and thus, it made sense to me that they would notice this sort of thing. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**Dance is a sport: **Sadly, I agree with you on both counts. Fortunately there are far more Sweets stories now than there were when I first joined this site, but it's still not a very big number. And yes, I do wonder why that is since Sweets himself is a fascinatingly complex character who provides almost endless fodder for fic writing. Ah well, such is the way of fandoms. :) Glad that you enjoyed my spin on the characters and hope that you will enjoy this update.

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. I do think that Daisy has her positive qualities and wanted to find a way to show how they appealed to Sweets in this fic and how the two of them worked as a couple...I have to admit that there were times when I preferred the light touch of Hodgela moments in this last season to the more intense or convoluted B&B moments this last season, so I find that it's fun to write Angela and Hodgins as a couple and explore their dynamic. :) Again, thank you for the continued support and lovely reviews.

**Seletua: **Well I can say that while this chapter won't answer your question, the answer will be coming before long...And don't worry, I completely understand your desire to up the angst in this by having a positive prognosis. :) I guess this is just a quirk that serious Sweets fans have...Thank you for your comments on Daisy and Angela. I have often thought that Angela can be a little abrasive on her own and that she shines best when she is interacting with the people that she cares about, thus why I love to have scenes with her and Hodgins. They play off each other so well. I hope you enjoy this (short) update.

**Em's Pride: **Actually, I think you have a very good point. At times it does seem like the writers have put a negative spin on some of Daisy's characteristics for the sake of humor. I do think though that they are trying to move in a slightly different direction like in recent episodes like The Family in the Feud where again her determined attitude was used to better effect. I know that I, myself, had found certain aspects of her grating at times, but for this fic I wanted to show her as more multifaceted...I will admit that a part of me was a little nervous about doing this storyline partially for the reason you said: the cancer storyline has been done a lot in fanfic. Plus, there was a lot of agonizing over what way I wanted it to go. But I do not think it's too much of a spoiler to say that this story will be just as much about Sweets' relationships with the people closest to him as it is about him possibly having cancer and thus why I went ahead with it. I am glad that it is not feeling too cliched for you. :)...The chance to interact with my readers was part of the reason I joined this site and so it's fun for me to respond to reviews. :) I just hope that I can continue to keep things interesting in this and other fics of mine.

**D: **I have had my ups and downs with Daisy myself. I did really like her in season four but had serious issues with her at the end of season five and going into season six. I do think the writers are trying harder to turn things around in season seven, but I think more progress is needed. In the meantime, I decided to take what I had seen of recent in canon (both on-screen and in those iPad apps) to the next logical step in her character (at least logical to me)...Hmmm, I think you will find a very complicating twist in this chapter as far as Sweets' relationship with everyone else goes...

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. I agree that Hodgela would be among the first to see that something is wrong in this situation, but as this chapter will show things will not be moving so easily...Also, as much as I have mentioned the angst before, I think it's safe to say that Sweets will be facing many hard truths in this fic. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

The Break in the Ties—Chapter 9

Booth scowled as he closed yet another file and placed it on top of a stack of others before leaning back in his chair.

It had only been a couple of days since Ellis' suspension of his partnership with Brennan, but the situation was already beginning to chafe at his nerves. Other than helping out a junior agent with a case, Booth hadn't been involved in any active homicides and was spending most of his time at the office going through a mounting stack of paperwork that he had been putting off.

Booth picked up his mug and took a sip of his coffee. The liquid had cooled and was bitter. He had made a lot of progress, but was also starting to feel that days spent only on paperwork were almost as bad for his mood as the suspension itself.

'_I wouldn't be stuck behind this desk if it weren't for this suspension,' _he mused.

The agent took another gulp from his mug and inwardly cursed Ellis for the umpteenth time that day. Hanging around the Hoover Building, sitting behind a desk, and shuffling papers about was an abhorrent routine for him, and he longed for some way to break up the monotony.

'_There wouldn't even be a suspension in the first place if Sweets were the one doing this evaluation.'_

Booth sat his mug at the edge of his desk, his scowl deepening. Before now, he hadn't thought all that much about how Sweets handled his patients and his practice in general. He had been seeing Sweets in one capacity or another for so long; he had simply grown accustomed to how the psychologist approached things and had come to accept it as the norm. Sessions like the one he had recently had with Ellis served as a stark reminder of just how unique Sweets was in his work.

The agent stacked up the rest of the loose papers on his desk into a pile and sat them off to the side with the intent of tackling them later. He then went back to finishing the rest of his coffee. For the last few days, Booth had been trying to keep Sweets out of his thoughts, but now he couldn't help but think about him.

At first, it he had avoided thinking about Sweets as a way to quell his anger over the evaluation and the argument he had had with the therapist. Eventually though, it became a way to ease the guilt he felt over how his confrontation with Sweets had unfolded and how he had allowed things to fester between them.

'_Why wouldn't he just tell me what was going on?' _he asked himself. '_Why was he being so secretive?'_

Booth's frowned again after letting out a sigh. After only a moment of consideration, he knew that he had the answers to his own questions and all of them boiled down to what he knew about Sweets' nature. Ever since he had known the psychologist, Booth had noticed that Sweets was often secretive and evasive in regards to himself even as Sweets frequently tried to get the people close to him to open up about themselves. Over time, however, Booth watched as Sweets slowly became less guarded and more willing to trust his close circle of friends. There was, however, still a sense of reserve surrounding Sweets, a lingering need to remain vigilant over his heart and soul.

'_Just in case someone breaks that trust,' _Booth mused. '_In case someone turns out not to be the friend they claim to be.'_

'_Just in case someone decides to hurt him…like I did.'_

Booth gave some of the objects on his desk a hard shove, pushing them close to the edge. No matter how he looked at it, he knew that he screwed up, both with the argument itself and how he decided to handle the aftermath. He was sure that Sweets was deliberately avoiding him and the agent knew that setting things right now would be even harder than it would have been before. When he thought about what had happened and the obstacles facing him, Booth found himself at a loss about how to proceed.

He also found that he was uncertain if Sweets would be willing to forgive.

"Booth?"

Booth looked up to see Brennan walking into his office. The agent started to straighten his desk up and grabbed at some papers.

"Right, lunch," he said, suddenly realizing what time it was. "Just give me a couple of minutes to finish up and then we will go, ok?"

Brennan nodded and sat down on a chair across from him. Booth worked quickly to get things in order while she let her gaze drift about the room. She eventually settled on watching him while he quietly sorted through the things on his desk. About five minutes later, Booth pushed his chair away and stood up.

"All right, all set," he said. "Now, did you want to go to the Diner for lunch this time or did you want to try something different? Some of the guys here at the office have been telling me about this new Chinese place that opened up a month ago where the food is…."

"Booth, when I came in you appeared to be preoccupied with something," Brennan interrupted. "Are you thinking about Doctor Ellis and this suspension again?" Booth slumped down and plopped back onto his chair.

"Yeah, some of it was that," he confessed. "I mean, who does this guy think he is: making so we can't work together just because we didn't feel like playing one of his shrinky games?"

"Then there is the fact that his decision was based solely on his own personal judgment instead of a critical assessment drawn from the empirical facts from our work histories," Brennan sulked. "This is why I hate psychology."

"I tried talking to Hacker," Booth said. "He said that there's no way out of this evaluation and there's little chance of us getting a different therapist either. So we are stuck with this guy."

"What can we do?" the anthropologist asked. "Should I try talking to someone? Perhaps I could reiterate my decision to not work with other agents."

"Nice try, Bones," Booth said with a weak smile. "But unfortunately, I think we are just going to have to play ball with this guy."

"How will sports alleviate the situation?" Brennan asked. "Unless you are thinking of using access to sporting events as a way to enhance our bargaining position. I happen to know some people who could supply us with…."

"I mean we are going to have to play along with him," Booth cut in. "You know, do his little dance, answer those annoying questions, and go through with those shrinky exercises."

"Is there no other way?" Brennan said, wrinkling her nose.

"If there is, I don't see it," Booth said. "Every option that comes to mind is potentially worse than this one."

Brennan nodded again and shifted about in her chair, her eyes directed at the floor. Booth stood back up and put on his suit jacket. He then noticed that she was still staring at the carpet.

"Bones?"

"I hate this," she said quietly. "I hate all of this intrusion into our lives. I do not understand why it makes much of a difference, but somehow it seems worse that the person who is doing this is simply following orders and knows nothing about us beyond what he has read in a collection of files."

Brennan took a breath and looked back up at the agent.

"Also, I find him to be overly stubborn and beholden to the subjective guidelines of his field," she added. "Hardly the type of person who can appreciate our partnership."

"I'm sorry Bones," Booth said gently. "I wish I could do something about this. I really do."

"If this had to be done, I wish it could have been Sweets doing this," Brennan replied.

Booth couldn't help but be surprised at that. It was true that he had been thinking the same thing ever since his first session with Ellis, but he hadn't expected her to express that idea so openly.

"Yeah, me too," he sighed. He hadn't told Brennan much about his argument with Sweets, but hearing her vocalize what he had been thinking managed to fill Booth with yet another wave of guilt over the situation.

"Why is he doing this?" Brennan asked. "Why did Sweets ask to not perform this evaluation?"

"I don't know," Booth answered. "Word is around the office that Sweets isn't seeing any patients right now and none of the other agents are able to get him to work up any profiles. I have no idea what is going on."

"I suppose that disproves my original theory about him performing another experiment in regards to our partnership," Brennan said. "If Sweets is mostly detached from his professional life these days, it's unlikely that he is spending his times on things like this."

"Wait, what?" Booth spluttered. "What do you mean 'another experiment'? When was there one before?" Brennan shook her head, instantly regretting speaking her mind aloud.

"It's nothing," she insisted. "It happened years ago, so there is no need to go over it now."

"No, I want to hear this," Booth said brusquely. "Are you saying that Sweets had performed some kind of experiment on us before? Or that he has been toying with us this entire time?"

Brennan sighed and proceeded to tell Booth about the aftermath of Pam Nunan's attempt to kill her along with the conversation she had had with Sweets in regards to his decision not to tell her that the agent had survived. By the end of her narrative, Booth's eyes were stony and his face had tinges of red.

"So all that talk about national security and making a rational decision based off his study of us was just a hoax to cover up the truth?" he growled. "That he had been manipulating us all along?"

"I do not know if that was his sole motivation, but it does appear as if he was dishonest with us, yes," Brennan responded. Booth continued to fume as she said that, rage starting to register on his features.

'_I can't believe that I was actually feeling guilty about that argument I had with him,' _he thought to himself. '_He's been playing us from the very beginning, and I was a fool to trust him. He better hope that I don't see him around here again any time soon…because the next time I do, he's getting a piece of my mind.'_

"Booth?" Brennan said, concerned over the expression on the agent's face.

"You know what, Bones, we're going to be just fine," Booth told her. "The last person we need around right now is Sweets. We are not going to be his lab rats anymore. We're just going to have to suck it up and give Ellis whatever he wants. Then we can move on with our lives."

"You're upset," Brennan said.

"Damn right I am," Booth snapped. "He had no right to do that to you, to us. And he needs to pay for what he did."

"Booth, please, please don't," she pleaded. "He made a mistake, and I believe that he learned from it. Please don't hurt him now."

The agent watched her for a long, silent minute before finally softening his features and relaxing his posture.

"All right Bones, all right," he said. "I won't do any serious damage to Sweets…even though he deserves it. But I am also not going to waste anymore time wishing that he could do this evaluation or worrying about what is going on inside his head. As far as I'm concerned, Sweets doesn't even exist."

"Thank you," she said. "Although I don't know how you can deny the fact of Sweets' existence." Booth responded by giving her a half-hearted smirk.

"Let's just drop it and go to lunch," he replied.

The two of them left his office and walked down the hallway toward the elevator. There was a soft 'ding' and the doors opened. They walked inside and were pleased to see that they would be alone. Once the doors closed, Booth wrapped his arms around her from behind and his hands drifted onto the growing bulge in her midsection. A smile returned to his lips.

"Besides," he murmured into her ear. "We've got far more important things to think about right now than Sweets and his games."


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Next chapter. At this rate, I think the next few chapters will be kind of short, but hopefully I will be able to update a little more often. We will see...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Fozmonster: **Thank you. I will warn you now though that there will be cause for tissues in later chapters too...

**Lunarweather: **Thank you for the review. I agree that sometimes it does seem like many of the characters take it for granted that Sweets will always be there, ready to do what he can to help, and thus wanted to look at what could happen if that was stretched too far...As for the mention of 3.15, I think that all of them to some extent are carrying around unresolved issues that could rear their heads at any point given the right circumstances. The key here will be how they finally resolve them in the end...

**DWBBFan: **Thank you. I hope you enjoy the rest of this fic. I can say that there will be some different perspectives yet in future chapters.

**Bbdarknyss: **Yes, Booth can certainly be an idjit at times...as they all are to some extent...:)

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. Yeah, nothing is going to come easily in this fic, as you will see in the next chapter after this one...I hope you enjoy this update though

**Rogue Soul Alchemist: **Thank you...I can say that the others will find out eventually...but what happens after that...we will see...

The Break in the Ties—Chapter 10

Sweets sat in a chair across from a tall, barrel-chested man with salt and pepper hair, who was sitting behind a desk. The psychologist wished he could think of something to say, but his mind was drawing a blank.

The previous day, Sweets' doctor had had him come in to go over the results of the ultrasound. Unfortunately, the news had not been good.

"_There was a shadow on your sonogram which does have me concerned. Therefore, I called in a favor and I'm going to refer you to an oncologist, Doctor Orson Kempton. I can assure you that you will be in good hands with him. Doctor Kempton is considered to be one of the leading oncologists in this country, if not the world. I have already sent your information to him and we can arrange an appointment with him while you are here."_

Sweets and his doctor had managed to set up an appointment for the next day, and the psychologist had let Warner know that he would in late coming into work that day. Sweets had hoped that Daisy could come with him, but she ended up needed time to work on her dissertation before her latest shift at the lab began in two days.

All of this led to this moment with Kempton glancing at his files and at him. Kempton had introduced himself and invited Sweets to sit down, but now Sweets was at a loss to find anything to ask him. After he was done glancing through the therapist's files, Kempton studied him for a couple minutes before finally speaking again.

"Doctor Sweets, I have gone over the test results and the sonogram that your doctor sent me," he said. "I concur with his assessment that, while it is not conclusive, the signs do point to pancreatic cancer. I would like to perform another ultrasound, but this time it will be more invasive and will involve getting a biopsy of the area where the shadow was on your sonogram. You will be put under, but it is performed on an outpatient basis. You'll be able to go home in a couple of hours."

"Ok," Sweets nodded dully. Kempton tilted his head at his tone.

"Is there something on your mind?" the oncologist asked. "Perhaps you have some questions for me about the procedure or my diagnosis?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Sweets replied. "I am sure you know what you are doing. My doctor said that you are one of the best in your field, and I trust his judgment." Kempton nodded and leaned back in his chair.

"Doctor Sweets, I believe that it is important for the two of us to understand each other since your treatment will have to be a cooperative effort between us," he said. "If I might ask, what are you a doctor of?"

Unsure of this line of questioning, Sweets immediately felt tense.

"I have doctorates in clinical psychology and behavioral analysis," Sweets answered blandly, his voice tightly controlled.

"I see," Kempton said. "And you accomplished all that by the age of twenty-five?"

"Actually, I accomplished it by the time I was twenty," Sweets said, his defenses rising. "I spent time in England working on a project for my Rhodes and Fulbright scholarships and have been working for the FBI for over three years now."

"Impressive," Kempton said. The oncologist then noted the challenge in Sweets' eyes and smiled in response.

"Forgive me, I hope that you did not take my questions as an attempt to belittle you or cast doubt on your credentials," he added. "The fact is, I knew a man like you when I was in medical school years ago. He was also a young genius who completed his schooling long before I and most of my classmates did. Last I heard, he was involved in research with viral diseases. So please, do not feel as if you need to prove yourself to me. I simply wanted to learn a little more about you as a person and not just as my patient."

Sweets blushed and slumped down in his chair, ashamed at his misguided reaction to the doctor's inquiries.

"It's all right," the psychologist mumbled, unable to look him in the eye at this point.

"Psychology," Kempton said. "Well Doctor Sweets, I can tell you that I am not the expert that you are, but I can say that I do have some acquaintance with your field. You see, there is actually quite of bit of psychology in my line of work."

Intrigued, Sweets finally looked back up at him, and Kempton gave him an encouraging grin in response.

"I think you can imagine the issues my patients face when coming to me for treatment," the oncologist continued. "Of all the diagnoses a patient can hear from their doctor, cancer is the one that truly embodies fear and uncertainty. To say that it has an effect on a person's mental state is a vast understatement."

"That's true," Sweets nodded. "Most people have heard about the effects of cancer and the treatments for it. Many others have some first-hand knowledge of it either through their own experiences or by seeing someone they know develop it."

"Exactly," Kempton replied. "Generally, when people walk into my office, they are already grappling with their own questions, fears and concerns and many of them are already starting to confront a very real reminder of their own mortality. All of that is a heavy burden to bear….and all of this is before they know more about their diagnosis and path of treatment."

Kempton stood up and moved to sit down in a chair next to Sweets. He leaned forward and laced his fingers together. The psychologist looked over at him. Some of Sweets' tension had eased, but there was still a tight feeling in his chest and stomach.

"Once again, I hope that you do not take offense," Kempton said. "But someone within your field…I am certain that you are familiar with the need for a positive, proactive mindset while undergoing treatment for cancer. I know that any attempt to frame your situation into a less threatening perspective would be transparent, so I am not going to go that route. But, I also suspect that your work might make you a bit more prone to be…introspective in regard to your own thoughts and feelings. You may end up analyzing yourself to some extent."

Kempton leaned even closer to Sweets, making sure to look the therapist in the eye.

"What I am asking from you, Doctor Sweets, is to not give in to the temptation to retreat too far into your own mind," the oncologist said. "I need for you to keep me informed as to your overall health and to let me know as soon as possible about any issues you are encountering. As others have told you, I am an expert in my field, and I can tell you that no case is cut and dried from day one. So I ask that you remember that when thinking about what you may have read or learned about cancer and its treatments. I need you to remember that you are a unique person and that neither of us can approach this with preconceived ideas about what will or won't happen."

The oncologist sat back in his chair and placed his hands on his knees.

"In fact, I ask that you use the talents you have developed to assist me in your treatment," he added. "I think it should be said that whatever you are feeling, be it fear, anger, sadness or confusion, is perfectly normal. I know that it's highly likely that you already know this, but I believe that vocalizing such things is important to everyone, even those trained to know this ahead of time. And let me assure you that, however these tests turn out, I am completely committed to your case. I promise to work as hard as possible in your treatment."

Sweets struggled to swallow around the lump in his throat. He understood what Kempton was telling him and appreciated the approach that the oncologist was taking and the dedication he was showing. Still, he couldn't deny that all of those feelings that Kempton had mentioned were currently swirling about inside him.

"Thank you," Sweets said. "For your candor and for…everything you are doing."

"You're welcome," Kempton said, rising to his feet. He then walked back over to his desk and pulled out a large appointment book.

"Now, let's get your appointment set up for your next ultrasound," Kempton said. "The sooner we know what we are dealing with, the better it will be."

Sweets nodded and then the two of them worked out a date for him to return for this next test. For the first time since this whole thing began, Sweets felt some tinges of hope: hope that this could end up being nothing serious, hope that he could be treated.

Hope that he might come through this with his mind and body intact.

* * *

><p>After he was finished with his consultation with Kempton, Sweets went over to the Hoover Building for another uneventful day of work. He left late in the evening and went home to find Daisy preparing another "cancer-fighting" meal for him. Sweets continued to appreciate her efforts, even though it was creating some odd food combinations.<p>

The psychologist remained quiet during the meal as Daisy told him about her day, only speaking when she pressed him about his meeting with Kempton. She listened with interest as he told her about their talk and by the end of it; she was nodding her head in approval.

"I have been doing a lot of reading and research in between time spent on my dissertation," Daisy said. "Doctor Kempton's name came up in more than one respected journal of cancer studies, and he had written some very informative papers on various types of lymphomas. I am glad that you are seeing him."

The two of them finished their meal and cleared the dishes away. Daisy then started to make suggestions about how to unwind, but Sweets shrugged them off.

"I'm sorry, Daisy," he said. "I just…I'm really tired. I think I'll just go to bed."

The therapist then went to the bathroom for a few moments to prepare for bed before heading off to his bedroom to change into his night clothes. Seconds after he had settled into bed, turned off the light, and pulled the covers over him, he heard Daisy enter the room and sit down on the bed beside him.

She didn't say anything, and Sweets closed his eyes. A moment later, he felt her run her fingers through his hair. Sweets breathed deeply, the gesture soothing him. Suddenly, she stopped, and he heard the sound of clothing being removed. He then felt her hands along his torso as she pulled the tee shirt he was wearing off of him.

Sweets groaned and turned over onto his stomach, his face buried into his pillow. He couldn't deny that Daisy's touch was inviting, but he still was not in the mood to engage in more intimate activity. His current relaxed state was not enough to erase all of anxiety in his mind over his potential illness or the ache of loneliness he felt in his heart due to the fractured state of his relationships with his closest friends.

His exposed skin was chilled and Sweets tried to pull his blankets over his bare back, but Daisy yanked them away. He opened his mouth to say something, but was stopped by the warmth of her body as she draped herself against him, her breath tickling the back of his neck. Seconds later, he felt her lips press onto his shoulder blades…right onto his scars.

Sweets shuddered even as he welcomed the sensation. Normally, he dreaded the idea of anyone looking at his scars and hated the idea of someone touching them even more. Other women he had been in a relationship with usually avoided the scar tissue on his back, only briefly touching it in the throes of lovemaking.

But Daisy took an entirely different approach. She never seemed uncomfortable with the presence of his scars, only saddened that they existed. Eventually, Sweets told her more about how he had gotten them, but she still never showed any unease about them whenever her hands caressed his shoulders and back, and Sweets had been grateful for that.

Then one night, things changed. Earlier that night, he had awoken with a cry from a nightmare from his childhood, and Daisy had been there to console him. He had been embarrassed that she had witnessed it, but she only responded by holding him and whispering comforting words into his ears.

"_It's all right, baby," _she said to him. "_I'm here…and I'll take care of you."_

She then started to do exactly what she was doing now: softly kissing his back, paying special attention to the scars there. At first, it had been awkward, and Sweets begged her to stop. He didn't want to think about her beautiful face and mouth coming into contact with his own ugliness. Daisy persisted, however, and soon Sweets understood that this was far more than just a physical display of affection: each kiss was a reassurance, each touch was an affirmation.

_Kiss…'I love you.'….Kiss….'I accept you.'…_

_Kiss…'I am here for you'…..Kiss…'I want and need you'…._

Sweets moaned again and arched his back slightly toward her. Then, just like now, these kisses were intoxicating and, despite his misgivings, he didn't want them to stop. Daisy responded by holding him even closer to her.

"Daisy," he breathed, lifting his head from his pillow.

"I'm here, Lancelot," she whispered in between kisses. "No matter how any of this turns out, I am here…And I love you."

Once he heard those words, Sweets could no longer resist her. He turned over and pulled her onto him, wrapping his arms around her as he did so. He then flipped Daisy over onto the bed so that he could be on top of her, his need plainly visible in his eyes and in the way that he touched her. All of the negative emotions that Sweets was carrying inside of him seemed to melt away for a while as he became lost in her.

He remained in this blissful state for hours until they were both completely sated and fell into an exhausted but peaceful slumber.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: Next chapter. Sorry about the snafu surrounding the last chapter. I hope it won't happen again...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**Lunarweather, Dance is a sport, Seletua, JoanneLikesVolleyball: **Again, sorry about the mix up there. I hope that you still enjoyed the chapter when it eventually did show up.

**Rogue Soul Alchemist: **Well that was not the series of angsty events that were supposed to happen in that chapter, but I hope that you enjoyed the update when it finally appeared...and that you will enjoy this one as well.

**Nertooold54: **That's a great way to put what Sweets is going through right now. :) There will be an answer to his big question soon...but unfortunately, there will be more trouble along the way...

**Whirlwind421: **I also hope to keep this pace up for a while, although I am unsure right now about it...Also, as to your other comment about the others, brace yourself because it's about to get even more complicated...

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. No, sadly, things will only get worse before they get better for Sweets...I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**Fluffybird: **Thank you. While I have my share of ups and downs with Daisy, I do think that she is a character worth exploring more. I imagine that there is much we don't see in canon and in the Swaisy relationship and thus wanted to go more into here. Expect more of it in the future. For now, I hope you enjoy this update.

The Break in the Ties—Chapter 11

The next morning, Sweets sat in his office, contemplating the latest form he was in the process of filling out. There hadn't been much waiting for him when he arrived that morning aside from some paperwork and a couple of reports that needed some final touches. The repetitive, menial work meant that Sweets' mind was prone to wandering and right now, it was stuck on one question.

'_Should I take some time off from work?'_

The psychologist finished the report he was working on and signed it before leaning back in his chair and frowning. This thought had crossed his mind more than once ever since his doctor first mentioned the possibility of cancer. Thus far, he had dismissed it off hand by reminding himself that the Bureau needed him to do his job and had used work as a way to find solace from his problems. The conversation he had with Kempton, however, was making him re-think all of this.

'_Even with the best doctors and the most up to date cancer treatments, there is no guarantee that I will survive this,' _he thought to himself. '_If I do end up having cancer, it's going to consume all of my resources in order to fight it. And even if I could continue to split my focus between work and my own health issues, is that really the path I should take?'_

Sweets shuffled some papers around and pulled out another pair of forms that needed filling out and turned off his computer. These days, he was frustrated that every time he found an answer, it only led to more questions. He knew that he couldn't put this question off any longer and needed to make a decision.

He stared at the forms in front of him and at that moment, his father's words came back to him, strong and insistent in his brain.

'_You are every bit as valuable as your vocation, if not more so.'_

'_Take time to take care of yourself….'_

'_I have to,' _Sweets told himself. '_I have to do this. My work is important…but I can't sacrifice myself for it. That's not what Mom and Dad wanted for me…that's what Dad was trying to tell me….'_

Sweets swiped at his eyes as he tried to compose himself. For the umpteenth time, he wished that his parents were still alive and that he could go to them now, but he was painfully aware that that was just wishful thinking. Instead, he tried to take comfort in the fact that his parents had given him wisdom that he could carry with him for the rest of his life, wisdom that he needed now to make this decision.

The therapist stood up and walked out of his office, his resolve set. He immediately went toward Warner's office and despite its short distance, it felt like one of the longest walks of his life. Once he was there, Sweets let the secretary know that he needed to see him. After a wait of about ten minutes spent pacing, Warner invited him into his office. The psychologist then sat down across from Warner and explained the current situation to him.

"I see," Warner said somberly after Sweets was finished. "Let me start out by saying that I am very sorry to hear this and hope that it turns out to be less serious than it appears to be now….And you were saying that you would like to take a sabbatical?"

"Under the circumstances, I think that would be the best thing for me to do, yes," Sweets said quietly.

"Unfortunately, I agree with you," Warner said. "I'm going to grant you your leave. Your request will have to be submitted to my supervisor, but I am certain that there will be no problems, given what you have told me."

"Thank you, sir," Sweets said. "And I would like to ask for one last favor."

"Yes?" Warner asked.

"I would like what I told you to remain between us," Sweets said. "I…I'd like for it to not become common knowledge here at the office."

"Are you sure about this, Doctor Sweets?" the agent asked, surprised. "I believe that there are people here at the Bureau who would not only want to know about something like this, but who would want to try to do what they could to support you during this difficult time. Plus, there is the matter of explaining your absence from work."

"I understand that you would have to share my current professional status with people here at the Bureau," Sweets said, swallowing hard. "But I…I'm asking that the reason for my sabbatical remain private because I…I don't really know what is going to happen in the near future. So I would like to keep this to myself as much as possible until I have some answers of my own."

"I suppose that makes sense," Warner said. "Although I can't say that I completely agree with it, I will do as you request. I will arrange for your sabbatical and I will make sure that your health issues are not mentioned. One last thing though: Agent Thompson. What is your current assessment of him?"

Sweets sighed and rubbed his temples. He had been dreading this question, despite the fact that he had anticipated it. It pained him to say this, but he knew that there was only one answer he could give.

"Agent Thompson will need to continue in therapy," the psychologist said. "In my professional opinion, he is not ready to return to his Bureau duties."

"I see," Warner repeated thoughtfully. "Then I will have to assign another therapist to him. Send all of your notes and files over to me, and I will have them sent to the psychologist who takes over his case. Let me assure you that the person I assign will take the time to carefully go over your work up to this point."

"Thank you sir," Sweets said again, sincerity filling his tone. "For that…and for everything else." The therapist stood up and Warner did the same.

"You're welcome, Doctor Sweets," he said. "I hope to see you return to the Bureau soon. I can say that it would be a great loss both to me and the FBI if you were unable to return. I wish you good luck and good health."

* * *

><p>After another long trudge through the hallways of the Hoover Building, Sweets eventually made it back to his office, feeling about ten years older than when he started the day. He then stopped to have a brief discussion with his secretary, Becky, about his upcoming sabbatical. She surprised him by giving him a brief, gentle hug. He was touched by the sentiment and thus, did his best not to noticeably flinch.<p>

"I hope it won't be as long as the last one was," Becky said as she let him go. "I, for one am going to miss you terribly until you come back."

"Thank you, Becky," he responded. "I will miss you too. Give Joe my regards and I hope to see you again soon."

Sweets then went into his office and gathered some things so he could go home a couple of hours early. He took the time to grab a couple of the toys that he normally had sitting in a bowl on the coffee table, like the toy chicken and the squishy sumo wrestler. The knickknacks reminded him of many more satisfying moments, personally and professionally, that he had spent in this office. He then picked up his briefcase and started to walk out, pausing before he did so. He knew that this wouldn't be the last time he would be here. He had some final tasks that he'd have to come in for over the next couple of days. Still, he could feel that there was something different this time, something that felt more like the end of a chapter of his life.

Sweets took one last long look and then walked out the door, carefully closing it behind him.

* * *

><p>As Sweets walked into the parking garage, he made a mental list of the things he would need to attend to before he could stop coming to work. He briefly thought about going back and starting to tackle them now, but he decided against it, figuring that it would be better to start tomorrow when he was fresher and to use these chores as a way to kill additional time while he waited to undergo his next ultrasound.<p>

Sweets opened the back door to his car and threw his briefcase onto the backseat before slamming the door shut. The sound gave off a deep echo in the mostly empty floor he was on. Sweets then unlocked the driver's door and was about to get in when a voice from behind stopped him.

"Sweets."

The psychologist whirled around and was startled to see Booth walking toward him. For a few seconds, Sweets wondered where the agent had appeared from and why he hadn't heard him before now. Those thoughts were quickly discarded at the sight of the determined pace that Booth had and the grim look in his eyes.

"Agent Booth," Sweets said, his defense instantly rising. "I'm going home now, so if you need something, you will have to talk to…."

"Can it, Sweets," Booth replied, cutting him off. "This has nothing to do with work." The agent moved to stand directly in front of him, and Sweets felt an involuntary shudder go through him. He could sense the barely controlled anger that came off Booth and Sweets instinctively knew that it was directed solely at him. For a moment, he willed himself to prepare for a fight, but instead he found himself unwilling to move or speak.

"I had a talk with Bones," Booth said. "She told me about your little 'experiment'. So why don't you tell me, Sweets: just how many other 'experiments' have you been secretly performing on us over the years?"

Sweets gulped, but still did not move or even flinch. He felt himself growing cold as a sense of foreboding filled him, foreboding that was punctuated with the vague notion that he shouldn't be surprised that this was happening to him.

'_This was meant to come….This is simply the payment…the punishment….for all that went on before.'_

The psychologist had no clue as to where that thought had come from, but decided that for now it would be better to forget about it and focus on the enraged FBI agent standing in front of him.

"Agent Booth, there have been no experiments performed on your or Doctor Brennan during our association," Sweets answered. Booth ground his jaw in response.

"Are you saying that Bones is lying?" he said. "Is that your tactic now? Trying to excuse your lies by implying that others are lying instead?"

"I do not think that Doctor Brennan lied," Sweets asserted. "But I do think that she has her own way of interpreting the situations she encounters. I know that does not excuse my actions, but I…."

"You're right. It doesn't," Booth snapped. "It doesn't excuse how you manipulated her. Or me. It doesn't change the fact that you lied to us. And it doesn't change the idea that, chances are, this isn't the only time you've lied to us."

Sweets watched Booth, the chill inside him continuing to spread, continuing to blot out his ability to feel.

"I'm sorry," Sweets nearly whispered.

"Sorry? Is that all you can say?" Booth said. "After all the lies and manipulation and the shrinky head games? You think that 'sorry' can take away any of that?"

Truthfully, Sweets doubted that any apology would be sufficient, but he chose to keep that thought to himself.

"Let me ask you this," Booth continued. "Did you even bother to explain yourself or apologize to Bones when she confronted you? Did you tell her then how sorry you were?"

The psychologist knew that answering this question would lead to an even more explosive response on Booth's part, but he knew that it was useless to lie…even if the truth would do more harm than good.

"No," Sweets said, his voice flat and void of emotion.

"No…no," Booth repeated. "All of the hurt you caused her, and you didn't even try to apologize? I thought she was supposed to be your friend. Is that how you treat your friends? Do you actually expect us to accept your apology now or believe anything else you say?"

"No…I don't," Sweets replied. Unable to contain his fury at the psychologist anymore, Booth advanced toward him until Sweets was backed up against his car and then grabbed hold of his arms again, not unlike the way he did several days ago in Sweets' office.

"You listen to me," Booth seethed. "From now on, you stay away from me and Bones, you got that? Don't come anywhere near us. We don't need your help with cases and we certainly don't need your 'friendship'. As of this moment, you are going to give us a wide berth at work, and you're staying away from the lab. Is that understood?"

"Yes. It is," Sweets replied, his voice still dull and lifeless. Something about the lack of reaction in the therapist grated at Booth, and he felt his anger grow.

"You have no idea," he growled. "You have no idea about what she went through…what the both of us went through….all because you wanted to prove a point."

Sweets remained limp in his grasp, even as Booth nearly shook with rage. Suddenly though, something snapped inside Booth as he looked closer at the expression on the psychologist's face, especially as he saw the hollow glint in his eyes.

It then occurred to Booth that Sweets had not cowered, struggled or even flinched once during all of this. All that was there was a sort of eerie calm, as if Sweets expected this. It took almost a minute for it to completely register, but Booth soon realized what he was seeing in Sweets' eyes: acceptance. The psychologist had simply accepted that he was going to get hurt and was waiting for Booth to deliver the blow. There was no fear, no sadness, no begging for forgiveness.

There also seemed to be no doubt in Sweets' mind that he would be punished mercilessly.

Booth abruptly let Sweets go, the anger swiftly evaporating. He had seen that look on other faces before: on children who had endured years of systematic abuse and on adults who had endured prolonged periods of brutal torture. It shocked and worried Booth to see the same haunted, placid demeanor in Sweets, despite his anger at him.

Sweets turned to open his car door and climbed in. He then shut the door, started up his car and drove away without another word, leaving Booth alone in the garage. The psychologist then turned on the radio and tuned to a metal station.

He then turned up the volume as loud as he could for the drive home, hoping that the music could dull any thoughts or emotions inside him.


End file.
